Losing Even That
by court.von.D
Summary: She didn't expect "The Butcher of Torfan" to have a sense of humor. Or a heart.
1. Chapter 1

"There's no other bloody way out of this room?! Who the _hell_ comes up with these layouts? They're fired!" Miranda fumed, typing furiously at her omni-tool. The door in front of her and Garrus was blinking with red, holographic lock symbols. Shifting, dancing. Taunting. A giant, flat, metal Christmas tree of crimson, blinking X's in the middle of O's.

Garrus banged at the door with the butt of his sniper rifle for the umpteenth time. "This thing isn't going to budge. What the hell is Shepard doing out there? Do you know what happened to her?" He glanced down to his Cerberus teammate.

Miranda didn't look up from her attempted hacking work. "No idea. I was in charge of Project Lazarus. I don't know anything more about Project Overlord than you or Shepard. Well…you, now, at this point." She hit an execute key and glanced to the door. "Shit! Nothing I'm trying is working."

"Now I really wish I would have taken those grenades Zaeed offered me." Garrus took a step back and leaned his weight on one leg, blinking at the door. "At the time, Omega market knock-offs didn't seem like the best idea."

Miranda whirled and examined the large display that Shepard had interacted with before stumbling out the door without a word. She sprinted over and started typing. "Whatever virus is in the system must be preoccupied now."

"No creepy green face?" Garrus came up behind her and glanced over her shoulder.

"No." Miranda pulled up a more detailed layout of the building than what her omni-tool had clearance for. She gave a strangled grunt of frustration and banged her fists on the console. "All the air shafts out of here are too small."

"Well here's something." The turian pointed to a large, central chamber. Into the hall behind the impossibly locked door, to the right, and down a level. "Look at all the hardware wired to that room. Shepard must be there."

"Good thinking." Miranda pushed dark bangs from her yellow HUD holographic visor with her armored hand, squinting at the perimeter observation interface on the console in front of her. "Great," she muttered. "Just…bloody fantastic."

"What is it?"

"Another shuttle landed approximately ten minutes ago."

"Doctor Archer, maybe? Am I the only one who gets a serious case of the creeps from that guy?"

Miranda balled up her fists and pressed her knuckles to the metal under the haptic interface display, attempting to push back her feelings. Something was off. Terribly off about this place, Doctor Gavin Archer, the entire project. "No," she said quietly. Ignoring her instincts about people wasn't the way to stay alive. "No, you're not."

The harsh, overhead lights flickered for a moment before dimming. They both whipped their heads toward the door. No glow showing it was locked or unlocked.

"About time we had some good luck!" Garrus shouted, running back to the door and jamming the barrel of his sniper into the center of the sliding plates. He grunted and threw himself against it, using it like a lever, prying it open a few feet. "Remind me to have Shepard get me another one," he huffed, Miranda grabbing another section. Her biotics flared and the plates sprang open. "Spirits know she stops and hacks every damn terminal we ever come across," he continued as they ran down the hall and to the right.

Miranda glanced at the first geth body they passed. "Dammit, she was out here alone!"

Garrus put a hand on her shoulder as they continued running. "We were doing everything we could, Lawson."

"It wasn't enough."

Two more rooms full of dead geth and opened crates and wall safes.

"Yep," Garrus said as they passed the second safe, "I'm definitely guilt-tripping her into a new sniper."

"Come on, there's a staircase over here. It'll be faster than waiting for the elevator." She pointed to a door behind what had once been a work station. Her stomach churned at the blood spatter on the metal and the wall as they shoved through it much like they had out of the large room before.

Their omni-tools pulled up flashlights as their feet pounded down the stairs. They could hear two voices.

_Thank God_, Miranda thought. _Shepard's alright_.

They burst through a maintenance door on the lower level. Miranda held up a hand, signaling Garrus to wait until her gun was out. She checked the thermal clip, nodded, and they started smoothly into the huge, circular room. Shepard and Gavin Archer were to their right, in front of a convoluted jumble of tubes and metal. They continued toward the other two before glancing up toward the curious machine above them.

"Oh…my…" Miranda couldn't finish her thought as they spotted what was in the mess of wires and spikes.

"_Spirits_."

A man. A young man, suspended several feet above a wide, glowing panel in the floor.

A metal halo with sunrays of spikes wrapped around his head; three small, metal claws kept each of his eyes open. His arms stretched outward from his pale, bare, body, five rods through both forearms. Two thick, ribbed, metal tubes were jammed into his mouth, and a silver cylinder started at his waist and extended to just above his knees, covering at least part of his nakedness.

"No! Leave him! He's too valuable!"

Two gunshots snapped both Miranda and Garrus back into reality, guns pointing toward Shepard and Archer. The commander turned and seemed to contemplate something for a moment before backhanding him. Hard. The doctor stumbled backward, space quickly closed as Shepard followed him.

A cool finger of dread trailed down Miranda's spine at the look in Shepard's eyes; normally sparkling, lighthearted. They were dark, ominous, now. There was no mercy in them for Gavin Archer, as his nose would currently attest; blood fountaining down his upper lip. Shepard's pistol jabbed at the bottom of his jaw.

"You even _think_ about coming after your brother, and this bullet will be waiting for you. Then we'll see who's valuable," Shepard growled. Her eyes flicked to Garrus and Miranda over Gavin's shoulder. She nodded toward them before holstering her gun and turning again to the young man.

_David. David Archer_, Miranda remembered. _God, what did they do to you? What did…what did _we_ do to you?_

"Where will you take him?" Gavin prodded.

Shepard glanced over her shoulder, obviously disgusted by his continued existence in the same space. "None of your damn business. And the Illusive Man can fire me if he doesn't like it." She pressed her fingers to her ear. "Joker, we're going to need the med bay prepped for an arrival." She held out her free hand as Gavin turned to go, stopping him. "Send an extra support staff or two of Chakwas' in the pick-up shuttle."

"Everything all right down there, Commander?"

"Garrus, Miranda, and I are fine," she answered. "That remains to be seen about the one we're picking up."

"Copy that. I'll send word to Chakwas and the shuttle pilot. ETA fifteen minutes."

Shepard looked to Miranda and Garrus. "Let's get him down."

/ / /

"Mister Evasive Needledick isn't answering!" Shepard whirled as the doors to the briefing room opened to Miranda. She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. "You'd think fifteen pings—all in a row—would piss someone off just enough to answer and tell the caller to leave them the hell alone!"

"Shepard—" Miranda started forward.

"EDI, try it again!" Shepard waved her off, turning back to the panel that had slid into the floor.

"Shepard." Miranda finally crossed into the room and grabbed the woman's right arm. "Stop. It's useless. He's not going to answer."

"You don't know th—"

"I do."

Shepard stopped and studied the woman's profile for a moment. "You've been trying, too, haven't you?"

She nodded. "However, I believe I win—twenty-six to fifteen."

The commander let out a long sigh and rubbed at the back of her neck with her left hand. Miranda suddenly realized she was still holding an arm hostage and let go. Shepard sank to the ground and flopped an arm over her eyes.

"Uh…Commander?" Miranda raised an eyebrow.

"Is that how people see me? Willing to justify any means for an end?"

It took a moment for Miranda to make the parallels with her seemingly unrelated question. Gavin Archer, necessity…Overlord. Shepard, necessity…Torfan. She knew Shepard winced every time someone said the name; looked away, ashamed. "Probably."

Shepard rolled onto her stomach and plopped her forehead against the cool floor. "At least you're honest."

"Until they actually meet you and realize you're an impossibly hard-headed archetype of decency, with frustratingly upstanding morals." Miranda crossed her arms. When it was apparent Shepard wasn't moving any time soon, she crouched next to her and hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder. "Shepard. Come on. We still have two dossiers to recruit." She surprised herself at the warmth in her voice…it was gentle.

"What do you think about Project Overlord?" She turned her head toward the woman and rested her cheek on the floor, scars still glowing, but at least beginning to close. Chakwas was still working on finding out how to fix them…but had been distracted the day before with David.

Miranda knew because she'd been in the med bay, holding his hand as he babbled off square roots before finally falling into a blissfully unaware sleep from the drugs Chakwas gave him, until they arrived at Grissom Academy that morning and saw him off. She shook her head. "I don't have time to think about it, Shepard."

"It was Cerberus."

"I…" she stopped and rubbed at her forehead. "I don't know, alright? I don't know what I think."

Shepard nodded. "Tell Joker to plot a course for Purgatory," she said quietly. "I'll figure out who's coming with later."

"Ever the procrastinator."

"I blame you." Shepard offered a wry grin.

"Oh, you were one long before I rebuilt you." Miranda stood and started for the door, then turned as Shepard didn't follow suit. "Commander?"

She waved her on. "Just go."

"Are you…going to be alright? Should I send Chambers in here?"

"No."

"No to which question?"

Shepard picked her head up and gave her a blank stare. "Purgatory. Please."

"Aye-aye." Miranda couldn't help but stare for a few moments as Shepard rolled so her back was to the door. She started murmuring something that Miranda strained to hear.

"Corporal Nolan Adams. Gunnery Sergeant Mark Ager. Sergeant Paul Allen. First Sergeant Sarah Amarano. Corporal John Anslo. Staff Sergeant…"

Miranda let the door slide shut. _Torfan casualties from her squad_.


	2. Chapter 2

"What?" Jacob spread his arms wide. "You've known all along I've been…conflicted…about working with Cerberus. This is one of those things that make me wonder…" He stopped and took a long pull from his water bottle. He was in the mess hall with Miranda, in sweats and a white t-shirt—the Cerberus logo proudly displayed across the chest, of course—about to go to bed. Miranda, after being sure nobody else would be wandering around, had also changed into her sleep ware: a ribbed, grey tank top and—a guilty pleasure—an oversized pair of black sweatpants.

"Go on." Miranda raised an eyebrow. "You've started, now you have to finish."

"We really don't know much of what went on outside Project Lazarus. Maybe Cerberus isn't…" he shook his head. "I don't know. I'm just saying maybe it isn't what it seems."

Miranda bit back the urge to fume at him, pulled up one leg and hugged it against her chest. "We're fighting for humanity."

"_We_ are. Cerberus…" He finished the incomplete thought with a shrug.

She tucked her hair behind an ear and looked up at him. "It's all I have," she said quietly.

"Now that," Jacob said, standing up, "isn't true, and we both know it. You should get to bed. We'll be to Purgatory at 0700. Don't you need at least six hours of beauty sleep a night?"

She gave an amused hiss of air through her nose. "Please, Jacob. Only four to keep this 'perfect' face operational."

"Try six to keep up with this piece of work." He grinned, motioning in front of his face.

"In your dreams."

"Jealousy is an ugly thing, Miss Lawson." He winked and squeezed her shoulder on his way past her, toward the crew quarters. "Good night," he called over his shoulder.

"Good night, Jacob." She raised her hand in goodbye, staring at the table. David Archer's voice still echoed in her ears, no matter how she tried to stop it. She knew the Illusive Man would definitely not be pleased with her twenty-six attempted comm connections, but she'd wanted to know. She had to know that Project Overlord had…failed. Yes, that's all that it could be called. A failure. It had failed miserably, scarring one human for…the damage was impossible to ascertain from his twenty-four hour stay. His eyes…so wide and haunted and—

"Miranda?"

She jumped, silently cursing herself for not hearing the approach. "Commander." She shifted her leg to the floor and clasped her hands on the table. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"So you really _do_ change out of that ridiculous white…thingy." Shepard said with a lopsided grin, bee-lining for the kitchen. She, however, was not yet out of her Cerberus fatigues.

"Shepard. Sleeping? No?"

"Definitely no," she answered, opening the fridge and shifting through the contents.

"Then what the hell are you doing?"

She pulled out a stick of celery, examining it closely. "You don't think Gardner got his hands on this, yet, do you?"

Miranda sighed and put her index and middle finger against her temple. "I thought we picked up fresh supplies on one of your saving the galaxy shopping trips."

"Well yeah, but I need to get some more." She shrugged and grabbed a small carton of orange juice before elbowing the fridge door closed. "We do have three biotics on board…and a tiny thief who seems to be able to eat three times her freakin' weight in ramen." She shuffled over to the table and flopped down. "Seriously, where the heck does she put all that?"

Miranda ran her hand through her hair, noticing that Shepard wouldn't make eye contact.

"In the enormous yap that won't shut up about Jacob's 'dreamy abs'," Shepard continued babbling, answering her own question. "I'm pretty sure she cloaks to watch him work out. Is that too weird?"

"Shepard, you're rambling."

"Oh." She stopped and peered at the celery in her hands.

Miranda almost wanted to reach across the table, the way Shepard seemed to shrink into herself. Her shoulders hunched and head stooped even further, causing somewhat shaggy hair to fall on either side of her face. She stopped herself, stamped out the feeling by squeezing her hands together. She could ask the obvious question, but it would be something of an insult to both of their intelligences.

She knew the hell that the dark space behind eyelids could conjure. The hell they could remember.

"What is it?" She asked quietly, crossing one leg over the other. Shepard was answering all the right questions with Kelly, Miranda knew, and definitely wasn't sharing the source of her bad sleeping habits with the rest of the crew.

"Huh?" Shepard looked back up.

"Your nightmares. Which one is keeping you up?"

"How did—"

"I spent two years putting you back together, learning everything I could about you. Near the end, you would start waking up because of bad dreams. Let me tell you." Miranda wagged a finger in her direction. "It definitely wasn't easy keeping you under all the time."

"I hear I can be kind of stubborn."

"The council definitely agrees." Miranda settled back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Points in my book for hanging up three times on the most powerful aliens in the galaxy."

Shepard gave a low giggle and rubbed the back of her neck. "It kind of upsets me I can't hang up on Mister Needledick."

Miranda rolled her eyes at one of her favorite nicknames for the Illusive Man. She'd have to remember to screen Shepard's outgoing reports twice for the name. When she remembered to file the blasted things.

In Shepard's defense, it was enough getting shot at all day—it wasn't as if she wanted to sit down and write a book about it. Her report on Garrus had needed a little finessing by her Cerberus loyalist XO. Somehow, Miranda hadn't thought _Hey, Evasive Guy. Got shot in the ass once—Chakwas about peed herself laughing. Recruited Garrus. Hacked some terminals. Used the creds to buy fish _was really 'report' material.

"Do you think we could rewire EDI to…?" Shepard grinned and finally met her eyes.

"No."

"But—"

"Shepard. _No_."

"Oh fine," she huffed, and took a loud, snapping bite of her celery. "You're no fun."

"And you're avoiding my question."

"Yeah," Shepard said around her mouthful of vegetable.

"Oh—honestly, Shepard. Talking with your mouth full?"

"Sorry." She took another bite and made a show of chomping with her mouth closed.

"Thank you."

"Meeeeh." Shepard stuck out her tongue, coated in mangled, green, stringy mess.

"Oh my word." Miranda tried her best to look frustrated, but could feel the grin pulling at her lips.

"Hey. There it is," Shepard said as soon as she swallowed. "Smiling looks good on you."

Before Miranda had time to analyze the statement or offer a reply, Shepard was standing and taking her empty orange juice carton to the trash can, crunching away at her celery.

"My dads loved slapstick," Shepard offered as soon as the green stick was gone. She rubbed at her left arm, staring at the trash can with the bright orange carton sitting on top.

Her dads. Yes—Travis and Martin Shepard had adopted her when she was a baby, and lived a perfectly normal, blue-collar supported life on Mindoir. That is, until…

Miranda let one eyebrow pull upward. "Oh good. I wondered if your sense of humor was really this terrible all along or if I'd made a mistake."

"Nope." Shepard smiled and finally looked back to her. "Always bad. Bound to get worse. When I get old, I'll probably resort to fart jokes."

"Considering you attempted to inform the Illusive Man of a certain bullet mishap a few days ago, I would say you're already there."

"Oh yeeeaaaah." Shepard rubbed at her chin. "Pop did always say I had a passive-aggressive mean streak."

"Had?" Miranda shifted in her seat.

"Twenty-nine and haven't changed a bit. Oh…thirty-one, now. He'd be so proud," she laughed, but the pleasant smile that had settled on her marred features melted quickly.

"Pop?" Miranda asked, trying to steer her commander's thoughts away from wherever they were lingering. She needed her at her best tomorrow. That's the only reason she hadn't marched her right back to bed yet…right?

"Yeah." Shepard nodded and leaned back against the counter. "Martin was Pop and Travis was Dad." The muted hum of the drive core filled the silence as Shepard crossed her arms against her stomach and stared at nothing for several minutes. She finally yawned and stretched her arms above her head. "Hey, I figured I should probably bring you along tomorrow—with the Cerberus payment and everything."

"Don't think you could charm your way out if something went amiss?" Miranda found herself smiling again.

"Think they'd fall for my 'got shot in the ass' line? I hear it has everyone swooning."

"It's a good thing you have a shred of common sense."

"Yeah, thanks for putting that in there for me." Shepard started back to the elevator, and Miranda stood, stretching her own arms out in front of her for a long moment. When she turned to go back to her room, she saw Shepard had paused at the metal support-beam wall dividing the mess hall tables. "Thanks, Miranda," she said, putting her hand against the cool metal divider and tapping against it lightly.

She seemed almost small again, the way she managed to pull in her broad shoulders, but the Cerberus operative knew this was the woman who insisted on biotic-charging every which-way on the battlefield; whose shoulder often took a brutal beating from her shotgun. Miranda was reminded of how her face still probably stung, with the way the red was glowing in the low lights of the night cycle. The worst one trailed along her sleek jaw line—the faint gleam seemed to be pulsing behind slightly inflamed skin. Had she bumped or scratched it on something?

_Entirely possible, the way she just has to go charging around like a bloody mad, biotic rhino._

Shepard glanced up, an unruly lock of hair falling to cover one eye, and Miranda realized she'd been staring.

_Clinically analyzing_, she thought. "Of course, Shepard. We need you at your best," she replied, linking her fingers behind her back.

The commander gave a small, almost inaudible sigh. "Right. I should probably hit the sack. Gotta' get my beauty winks in."

"Beauty winks?"

"Yeah." Shepard gave her a confused frown. "You've never heard that before?"

"I don't think anyone has."

"Dammit. Dad said it was a real thing!"

Miranda couldn't help the light giggle that escaped her mouth.

"My life is a lie!" Shepard playfully gripped Miranda's shoulders.

"I can assure you." Miranda brought her hands up and pulled Shepard away gently by her biceps. "It's not."

"Hm." Shepard let the side of her mouth twitch upward. "Well played, Lawson. Goodnight."

Miranda realized her hands were still on the woman's arms and let go, a little too suddenly. "Goodnight, Commander."

Shepard continued around the corner and Miranda let out a long breath after she heard the door open and close.

She was in her own bed and snuggling under her covers before the thought hit her. _You never told me what nightmare._ "Well played, Shepard," she mumbled.

/ / /

Shepard ducked behind a low metal wall, bullets pinging off the top and sparking the ground next to her. Miranda looked over from her own cover. "This is why we can't have nice things!" Shepard shouted.

So the credit transfer hadn't gone as smoothly as they could have hoped, and resulted in them fighting their way through a prison ship full of guards, crazed inmates, and heavy mechs intent on killing them; not to mention the warden now in front of them on a platform who had thought taking Shepard prisoner would work out well for him. Hardly a reason not to have nice things, but nice things did have a habit of getting blown up when Shepard was involved.

Zaeed let loose a gravelly laugh from behind them. "It's this pretty mug! Can't keep their 'ands off!"

Shepard nodded nonchalantly and shrugged. "Also why we don't take him out in public much," she continued loudly before popping up and firing off a few shots. She ducked down and checked the shots left for the current thermal clip in her shot gun. "We really should get some—"

"Shepard!" Miranda shouted.

A wall of fire erupted in front of her cover as a missile hit, and she sprawled backward on the ground before scrambling back behind the wall.

"I'm behind a metal wall!" She shouted, pumping the action on her shot gun and sending the mostly-spent clip clinking across the ground, loading another in with practiced expertise. "What the _hell_—" she jumped up and started firing "—makes you think it would hit me?! Zaeed, move up! Miranda, take out the shield generator!"

"On it," she replied smoothly, aiming her submachine gun at the tall, blue cylinder and letting loose a volley of bullets. The glass shattered and the warden was left with only his personal shields and armor, shouting something about Shepard being too much trouble. _Tell me about it_, she thought, looking to the woman in question.

She was tucked behind a tall crate, loading her missile launcher with a small, borderline-maniacal grin on her face. Zaeed was at her side, keeping the guards rushing from the far door at bay. She hoisted the weapon onto her shoulder.

"Miranda! Keep me covered, too!" She called, swinging into the open and aiming directly for the warden. "I…have had…just about…" rockets _plunked_ out with her short bursts of sentence. "Enough…of you!"

The turian exploded with a hail of body and armor pieces.

"Let's go!" Shepard waved her hand in a circle above her head, stomping toward the exit. "Get to Jack before she tears out a bulkhead!"

When their mad dash brought them back to where they entered, Shepard suddenly slung her missile launcher onto her back and pulled out her pistol, aiming it up, toward a raging, pacing, tattooed convict.

Miranda was about to ask what the hell she was doing when she shot and a guard behind Jack fell. Impressive, really. She had really been convinced she was mostly capable of the extreme, overpowered style of charging and blasting with the non-elegance of a shotgun. She was vaguely aware of a poorly executed joke that Shepard attempted about being enemies. She simply rolled her eyes, until Shepard said something about Jack seeing Cerberus files. "Shepard, you don't have authorization to do that!" She protested.

Shepard looked over to her and ran her forearm armor across her sweating brow.

"Aw, it upsets the Cheerleader. Good." Jack crossed her arms as Shepard looked back to her.

"Are you done?" She raised an eyebrow. "We've got a galaxy to save."

The curt question made a flicker of indignation cross the convict's face before she scowled. "Whatever. Let's go."

/ / /

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Miranda turned to Shepard after Jack stomped out of the briefing room.

"Nope!" Shepard replied cheerily. "Isn't that half the fun?"

"This isn't a game, Commander."

"Never said it was."

"Is this how you treated Torfan?"

Shepard looked like she'd been slapped across the face. Her smile vanished and she shoved her hands deep into her pockets, nodding slightly. "I deserved that."

Miranda closed her eyes and pressed her hand to her forehead. "Dammit. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant—"

"Don't worry about it," Shepard said, then cleared her throat. "Jack deserves a chance to figure out who she is. Everyone does. Could you please let her into the system? No blocks."

Miranda sighed, but nodded in compliance.

"Thank you." Shepard started for the door, staring at the floor.

Miranda grabbed her arm before she was in the hall. "I'm sorry, Shepard. I…I don't know what I was thinking."

"That I threw my squad into a meat grinder for fun?" Shepard asked with a humorless laugh. "That the Butcher of Torfan did it for a few giggles?" Her hand rested atop Miranda's for a brief moment. "I promised I'd do better for them. I will." She pulled away and left, the door sliding shut, leaving Miranda staring at the green, 'unlocked' hologram.

"I know you will."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for the follows and reviews! You all have excellent taste in romance options for FemShep ;). Slight shift in perspective to Shepard, just a heads up. It'll probably happen again in the future. Anyway. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"Ah! Shit!" Shepard winced as she prodded at the offending, luminous scars splashed across her features. It was a bad habit, she knew, scrutinizing and jabbing at them in the mirror, but she couldn't help it. It was too strange to be able to poke…her skull? "Ouch!" Practically her skull, right? Anyway, at this rate, they'd be gone in a few more weeks. That is, if poking didn't slow the healing process. _Probably does_, she thought as she ran her finger along the one on her forehead. _But wouldn't it be a shame not to poke things you're not supposed to when you had the chance?_ "Agh!" _Damn, that one on my jaw is touchy._

She turned on the cold water and splashed her face, giving it a brief moment of reprieve, and gripped the edges of the steel sink in her private bathroom, staring down at the basin. It was almost like re-learning her face, anyway. The familiar scar slicing through her right eyebrow, across her nose, and onto her left cheek was gone. She reached up and touched at a cheekbone, immediately regretting it. "Rrgh! Dammit!"

"Commander Shepard?"

She splashed her face once more before turning of the faucet and reaching for a towel. "What's up, EDI?" She asked, patting gingerly at her face.

"I heard expressions of pain originating from your cabin. I have alerted both Miss Lawson and Doctor Chakwas."

"What?" Shepard's eyes widened. "No! Send them back down!"

There was a rap at her cabin door and she buried her head in her hands.

"My apologies, Shepard. In the future, would you like for me to check with you first if your expressions of pain are something worthy of note?"

"Yeah," she mumbled from between her fingers. "Sounds like a plan."

"I have made adjustments."

"Thanks." Shepard exited her bathroom as another knock sounded. "I'm not here," she called, staring at the aquarium. Several tiny fish darted in circles around each other, weaving between the colorful seaweed décor. "Didn't you hear? I'm dead!"

"Commander, don't make me use your first name!" Chakwas called. "Open this door immediately, young lady."

"Eesh." Shepard unlocked it using her omni-tool. "No need to pull that out," she said as the two women stepped in.

Miranda tilted her head to the side. "I know your first name."

"Hm." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Of course you do. So I actually didn't need to unlock the door."

"Quite the contrary, dear." Chakwas pulled up her omni-tool. "Are you alright? EDI informed us—"

"She heard expressions of pain originating in my cabin? Yeah. She told me, too. After the fact." Shepard stared at her boots. "No problems here."

"Then what were you doing?" Miranda's feet shifted, showing she was leaning her weight on one leg. Shepard guessed her arms were crossed. And of course she'd changed from the sensible armor back into the white surfing get-up.

_And what is with that scale-pattern thing?_ Shepard wondered. _Is it some sort of fashion statement? I really hope she didn't pick that out herself. Do other—_

"Shepard?"

"Oh!" She looked up quickly, realizing she'd pulled into her thoughts again. "Uh…what?"

Miranda's neck muscles flexed as she sighed. "What were you doing?"

"Nothing. I stepped on a…uh no…stubbed my…wait…" Those excuses definitely wouldn't work, considering she had just been staring at her combat boots. "Um…Sir Knight McFurball bit me." Shepard silently cursed herself for being such a lousy liar. She motioned apathetically to her space hamster. He squeaked and retreated into his house. "I…fell?"

Miranda's lips attempted to fight a smile, and Shepard felt a familiar jolt in her gut. She looked so different with the simple gesture. "Did you fall into a giant tub of bad excuses?"

"No! I—I…yeah. Yeah, pretty sure I did," Shepard conceded, gripping at her left arm.

"Well?" Miranda held out one hand from the pretzel of her arms. "Go on, Commander can't-tell-a-lie. What were you doing?"

Shepard sighed and mumbled out a reply so jumbled not even she could make head or tails of her words. She smiled. "So…see? Nothing! Uh…I should uh…go." She started past the two, realizing how ridiculous it was that she was chasing herself out of her own quarters. "Plot a course for—"

A black-gloved hand closed on her arm in a familiar, gentle grip. "You've been poking at your scars, haven't you?" Miranda's words were more of a statement, but had the decency to form a question.

"No!" Shepard answered indignantly.

Chakwas sighed and shook her head. "You do realize that for something to heal, you can't keep jamming your finger in it?"

"I wasn't…" Shepard met Miranda's smoky blue eyes and her sentence faltered. "I…was investigating?" She attempted to keep her body as still as possible, hoping Miranda wouldn't notice her hand still gripping her arm. One of the first things she remembered of 'this' life. That touch; the gentle hold as she tried to comfort her, telling her to stay calm.

And then there was some weasely man's voice, but he was dead now anyway, so she didn't bother with dwelling on that part.

"Miss Lawson," Chakwas said, taking a step back, "could you deal with this impossible child while I continue my research into a remedy for this problem?"

"Of course, Doctor," Miranda replied, looking to her.

Shepard's eyes widened as Chakwas winked and turned back to the elevator. _Damn that woman and her instincts. See if she gets her brandy now!_

Miranda's hand left Shepard's bicep as she pulled up her omni-tool. "Alright, I know this bit is hard for you, but try and stay still."

"Hard for me? Psh. I can—"

"Commander, your jaw _moving_ counts as not staying still."

"Right." Shepard clamped her mouth shut as the glow waved over her features a few times.

"It must have been some rather thorough investigating," Miranda said, pulling her hand down and looking at the readings. "Go sit down," she ordered, not looking up from the holographic display screen.

"Aye-aye," Shepard descended the two steps to the bedroom and flopped on the couch before propping her feet up on the coffee table. She smiled.

Just like her dads always did.

"Oh." Miranda glanced up as she made her way down the steps. "Good to see that thing is actually getting some use."

"On Fridays, Pop would always rent these…awful vids." Shepard grinned and wiggled her feet slightly. "Seriously. Bad acting, bad writing, bad…everything. He'd get them when he got off work, and then when Dad got home, we'd watch them, eating dinner on the couch. When I was little, they pulled the coffee table closer so I could sit like them." She could almost feel them both at her sides again, how safe she felt nestled between the two, tired men, still in their work clothes, a beer in hand. She swallowed hard and pushed the thought aside before the tears came. "Guess it stuck."

Miranda sat down carefully at her side; ever controlled and poised, and pulled off her gloves. Her omni-tool lit up once more and she keyed in an option for manual medi-gel application, taking a daub on her index and middle fingers. "Here, this won't _heal_ them, but it should help with the inflammation and discomfort."

The commander turned to face her as she smoothed the gel on her forehead.

"Shepard…about earlier…I…I didn't mean it when I brought up Torfan." Her fingers moved delicately to the scar just below her eye, spreading the wonderful, cooling sensation of the medi-gel to the hot lances of pain in her face.

"Scared history might repeat itself?" Shepard asked gently. It had been keeping her up at night. At first, it was the normal dream…Amarano, Hardt, Faulkner getting torn apart, followed by Kaplan and Zebrowski tripping a trap ahead…the names went on and on. But the faces had started changing. Jacob, Miranda, and Garrus were getting shredded with modified ammo. Mordin and Kasumi were tripping the trap. Hell, the old Normandy crew was there to join in the fun. Liara and Kaiden had their throats slit. Wrex jumped on a grenade, but Tali was too close. And then Ash…melting in the spew of fire from a flame thrower. Except the shadow of the pyro was different than the one she remembered, somehow.

Miranda's other hand reached up and tilted her face so she could reach the other side. "Perhaps."

She really was painfully straightforward. Shepard tried to convince herself it was a good thing as Miranda's light touch finally moved to her jaw line. She couldn't help the relieved sigh that escaped her throat as the medi-gel was tenderly applied—a caress completely opposite of her own, rough prodding.

"At any rate, I shouldn't have lost control of myself in that manner. It won't happen again, Commander."

Shepard met her eyes, hyperaware of the fingers lingering at her jaw. She reached up and took her wrist. "Listen to me, Miranda. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that never happens again. Never."

The faintest idea of a grin crossed the operative's face. "You could start by stopping any more facial 'investigations'." Her fingers brushed her skin lightly once more before she pulled her hand back.

"But…I'm a Spectre. I investigate!" She protested, inwardly sighing about the loss of contact, and folding her arms loosely across her stomach before crossing her ankles on the table.

"And then hang up instead of making a report." Miranda pulled on her gloves again, then seemed to contemplate Shepard for a moment, her big, blue eyes sharp. She leaned back on the couch and propped her boots up on the table, lacing her fingers over her own abdomen. A comfortable silence settled between them before she turned to face her commander. "This is terrible for your posture."

"So is dying." Shepard grinned, flopping her head over.

Miranda cleared her throat. "Speaking of which…have you thought about visiting the Normandy's final resting place?"

The commander sighed heavily. "Do you think…we have time?" She turned away and stared at the wall above her bed. "I…I think I'd like that," she added quietly.

"Of course we do," Miranda answered, almost too quickly. "Both Kelly and I think it would help for your focus on our mission."

"Okay…yeah. Thanks." Shepard smiled. "Could we go before we get the warlord?"

"Shepard, this is your ship."

"Oh yeah." She wrinkled her nose and made a fist, bumped it lightly on her thigh. "Then that's where we're headed, dammit! EDI?"

"Yes, Commander?"

"Tell Joker we're going to Alchera."

"Acknowledged. Anything else?"

"What time on Alchera's day cycle will we get there?"

"At what would be considered late morning for the planet. It will be at approximately eleven PM on the Normandy's time cycle."

"Good. That's it for now."

"Logging you out."

Shepard leaned her head back and let her eyes flutter shut. The tantalizing heaviness of sleep was pulling at her shoulders and relaxing her face when she felt Miranda carefully get up.

"Lights—off," she whispered, voice somewhere near the bed.

Reality blended further into the black behind Shepard's eyes and she was only vaguely aware of something soft being pulled over her, warding off the perpetual, small chill of the ship, before the hiss of her door opening and closing.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Aaahhhh. Aaaand the debut of Jack's mouth. It certainly makes me happy, but hey, I'm a fan of the F word. As always, thank you so, so much for every review, fave, and follow. You make my day. :)**

* * *

"Commander Shepard?"

The woman groaned slightly and opened one eye. She wasn't sure why, she was just talking to a disembodied voice—it wasn't like she needed to see anything. "EDI. Everything okay?" Her room was bathed in blue from the lights in the fish tank, and a soft yellow from the holographic display in front of her armor locker.

"Yes, but I decided it would be useful to inform you that dinner is underway in the mess hall."

"Hmph." Shepard pulled the blanket around her shoulders closer and closed her eyes briefly. "Ever feel like I'm putting together a zoo instead of a crew to save the galaxy?"

"I do not feel the way humans do, but I can determine the meaning of your hyperbole."

"What did you call me?" Shepard grinned. _I'm going nuts. I'm trying to joke around with a machine_.

"I could refer to you as Zoo Keeper Shepard."

"I prefer High Master-Commander of the Zoo Ship Normandy." Shepard finally pulled the blanket aside and ran a hand through her hair. At least an alarm clock that talked back made you get up.

"Acknowledged."

She pulled herself up from the couch and rolled her shoulders, eliciting a few light pops from her upper back. "ETA to Alchera?"

"Four and a half hours, High Master-Commander of the Zoo Ship Normandy."

Shepard smiled. "At least someone around here thinks I'm funny."

"My protocol establishes that I should agree with you to build a repertoire of trust between us."

"Oh." Shepard sighed.

"That was a joke."

"Asshole!" Shepard laughed as she made her way to the door.

"This is an anatomically incorrect statement, considering—"

"Ah!" Shepard held up a hand, crossing the short distance from her room to the elevator. "Okay. I get it. You win."

"Do you have further enquiries?"

"That's it for now," she said, summoning the elevator.

"Logging you out, Shepard."

/ / /

"What the _fuck_ is this shit?!" Was the first thing Shepard heard as the elevator door opened. She hurried around the corner, afraid she would see Jack about to kill Gardner.

Gardner simply laughed at the irate biotic. "Shoulda' seen the messes I came up with before we had decent groceries."

Jack glanced at Shepard as her boots scuffed lightly along the metal floor, approaching the kitchen bar. "Shepard? I'm starting to think maybe I woulda' had a better shot at survival by staying on Purgatory."

"But then you wouldn't get to stare at this pretty face!" Shepard responded, grinning, as she motioned to her own.

"More like want to punch it. Seriously. I went down to engineering to stay _away_ from people."

"Don't worry." Garrus pulled up beside them, his own tray in his hands. "She grows on you."

"The fuck happened to _your_ face, spike-head?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

"A rocket," he replied breezily. "Hell of a fight. You missed out."

"No shit?" Jack seemed genuinely impressed. "Sounds like it."

"Shepard always does the fun stuff." Garrus winked at Shepard, who grinned in return. "Stealing the Normandy…going to Ilos…"

Jack looked to the commander, her dark brown eyes widening slightly. "So you weren't completely shitting me when you didn't shoot down my pirate idea?"

"I offered you first mate," Shepard said, shrugging. "You turned it down. Garrus? You in?"

"You know it!" He laughed then grunted, gingerly bringing a hand up to his face. "Dammit, Shepard, I thought I told you not to make me laugh. Still hurts."

Shepard and Garrus started to the front mess table as Jack stood uncertainly at the kitchen bar. Shepard turned and raised an eyebrow. "Well? Are you going to plan our hijacking or stand there with a stick up your ass all night?" She asked, taking a seat across from Garrus, her back to the metal support wall.

"Fuck you," she replied before striding over and slamming her tray down on the table next to the turian. "You don't know the first thing about being a pirate." She flopped into a seat.

"Not true." Garrus said, taking a jab at the dextro-meat slab on his tray. "You wear an eye patch."

"Yeah." Shepard rubbed at her chin. "And have parrots. I don't think birds do well in space, but I do have a hamster."

Jack blinked. "You gotta' be shitting me."

"His name is Sir Knight McFurball."

The convict rolled her eyes. "That doesn't surprise me."

"Oh!" Garrus chimed in around a mouthful of food. "And we need peg legs!"

"And a hook." Shepard made a fist, then curled her index finger out. "And we say things like 'ahoy matey', right?"

"Yeah!" Garrus nodded. "And 'avast'!"

Jack held up her hands before they could continue. "What the fuck do you people smoke here? 'Cuz it's not nice not to share."

Garrus waved at his Spectre friend. "It wasn't long after Sovereign's attack on the Citadel, when Shepard had us watch this horrendous vid. You've heard the term B-Movie?"

Jack nodded, crossing her arms over her mostly-bare chest.

"I don't think the human alphabet has enough letters for that one. Maybe double-Z or Q or something."

"Sounds like it," Jack snorted. "Where the hell did you dig up shit like that?"

Shepard scratched at the back of her neck. "My pop rented it once, a long time ago. Believe it or not, it definitely wasn't the worst one he picked out." She looked back up, surprised at the look of contempt suddenly on Jack's features. _Was it something I said?_ Before she had more time to wonder, the answer presented itself in the form of Miranda's voice at her side.

"What could possibly be worse than those terrible accents you two just butchered?" Miranda eased into the seat next to Shepard.

"Hey!" Shepard smiled. "We were just talking about hijacking the Normandy! Garrus is my first mate. Jack is apparently leading the boarding party and executions."

Miranda shook her head. "Of course."

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean, Cheerleader?" Jack demanded.

"That I'm not surprised," she answered, picking up her fork.

"Well we're spacing you."

"Our mission is too important to go rogue, and Shepard knows that."

"Fuck you."

"Witty comeback."

Jack glowered and slumped lower in her seat. "Cerberus bitch."

"Okay!" Shepard held up a hand. "Can we sit and eat like normal people who hate each other?"

"And how exactly is that?" Miranda raised an eyebrow.

"They don't talk to each other." Shepard looked between the two. "Can you handle that?"

"Oh, yeah." Jack leaned forward to shovel rice into her mouth. "In that case…Shepard, tell the cheerleader those boots make her look like an expensive whore."

Miranda stiffened in response and her eyes narrowed.

"Miranda," Shepard said, looking over to her, "Jack says you look lovely tonight."

"Well played, Shepard!" Garrus held out his hand and they high-fived. Or…high-five and high-threed.

"I like to think so." Shepard contentedly started cutting into the slab of meat on her tray.

"I can actually hear her, Shepard," Miranda said.

"And," Jack said, "tell her that her tits look fake."

Shepard looked up. "She says you have magnificent breasts."

"Oh God—really?" Miranda's brows knitted together. "Magnificent—honestly!"

Shepard fought to keep her face impassive. This was probably turning out just a little too well for her. "I know, it's impressive that I know big words. We can't all rebuild people from next to nothing, but I will have you know that I once made it to the second round of a spelling bee when I was in third grade."

"Hey." Jack planted her elbows on the table. "Speaking of third grade, ask the Cerberus bitch if she enjoys torturing children."

"What?" Miranda's icy gaze met Jack's blazing one, and both Shepard and Garrus froze.

_Nope. Definitely not working out well. At all._

The few lower deck crew members seemed to slow, glancing over from the kitchen and around the support wall. "What is that supposed to mean?" Miranda ground out.

"Don't act like you don't fucking know."

"Okay!" Shepard waved her arms in the middle of their gazes. "Alright, family dinner time is over, kids!"

"Cerberus did this to me!" Jack jumped up.

"That's ridiculous," Miranda answered calmly, folding her hands on the table. "Cerberus would never do such a thing to any human—"

"That what Project Overlord taught you?" Jack sneered back.

That made Miranda bolt out of her chair. Shepard was scrambling in her mind for a way to make peace. At least the table was between them. For now. It wouldn't be long before biotics were flying, the table caught in the crossfire. "Project Overlord was a mistake!" Miranda shouted, fists clenching at her sides. Almost instantly, she made an obvious effort to relax her body. "Run by a mad doctor who thought—"

"It was Cerberus." Jack narrowed her eyes. "Or are you really so fucking dense that you think—"

"Hey!" Shepard shouted, jumping onto the table. Graceless, yes, but then again, she wasn't exactly used to finesse. She did tend to charge around the battlefield like an ADHD battering ram with guns. There was no question now—everyone was staring, preparing to run or hide. "That's enough." She looked between the two women.

"Fuck this bullshit." Jack grabbed her tray. "This is why I kill people instead of work with them," she said, starting back to the elevator. "You ever decide to tell the Illusive Fuck where to shove it, Shepard, then we can talk."

Shepard looked down to Miranda, a dozen emotions fighting for dominance in her eyes. "You okay?"

Her face quickly pulled back to the inexpressive mask she so often wore. "You can probably get off the table now, Commander."

"Oh…yeah." Shepard hopped down and glanced at the other faces. "Show's over, people," she called. "As you were!"

"I should…" Miranda picked up her own tray. "I should get back to work, anyway. Shepard, when you have a chance, I do have some more data on the Collectors you should probably have a look at."

Shepard sighed as she left, then looked at Garrus. "Dammit, Garrus, why do you have to start so much drama?"

"Sorry." He raised his hands slightly. "Guess my scars didn't up your chances with the ladies. I'm still irresistible."

"It's the blue." Shepard sighed and propped her elbow on the table, rested her cheek on her fist. "Maybe I should slap on some blue face paint, too."

"Couldn't hurt. Maybe red just isn't your color."

/ / /

"Shepard, you shouldn't be going down there alone."

Shepard glanced up from her seat on the shuttle step, strapping on her shin plates. She shoveled a handful of hair out of her eyes and looked between Garrus and Miranda, the latter of which had just spoken. "We scanned the entire area. There's no activity of any kind."

"Mmhm. You say that now, and what happens when an army of heavy mechs sprouts out of nowhere and you have no backup?" Garrus waved a hand in the air. "There's hardly any Shepard without a sharp-shooting Vakarian."

Miranda shifted her weight, glancing at the helmet Shepard had shoved into her arms a few minutes before, telling her to hold it. "He has a point."

"Great." Shepard threw a hand in the air. "My first mate and my executive officer are ganging up on me. You know what? My shotgun is very handy when…" The sight of Miranda's slight, but bemused half-grin derailed Shepard's train of thought. It vanished in an instant, replaced by her business-face.

"I wasn't talking about that."

Shepard shook her head and bent over again, double-checking the atmospheric seals at her knees and ankles. "That won't happen."

Garrus shuffled a few steps in a useless circle. "I'm here if you need me. You know that."

Shepard sighed heavily after her final armor checks. "I just…I need to do this." She hauled herself up, took the helmet from her XO's hands, and strapped it on.

Garrus made a noise that sounded something like a flanged grunt in his throat before nodding. "I understand."

"Thanks." Shepard looked over and smiled, hoping he could see at least part of it through her breather.

He put a hand on her shoulder before starting for the elevator.

"Shepard, this has to be the worst idea I've heard in a long time," Miranda said.

"Oh come on!" Shepard tilted her head. "What could possibly go wrong?"

"That's among a list of famous last words," she said, crossing her arms and looking away. "Almost number one."

"Oh? And what is number one?"

" 'Watch what I can do.' And I distinctly remember you shouting that before charging a krogan in the quarantine zone."

"Kasumi thought it was cool."

"Then take her!"

Shepard reached out and took her arms. "Miranda," she said quietly, giving her a small shake. "I'll be fine." She watched her bite at her lower lip. "Anyone ever tell you that you worry too much?"

The Cerberus operative finally looked back and met the woman's eyes through the visor. "No."

"'Course not." She gave her arms a gentle squeeze before pulling away and hopping in the shuttle. "I'll be back before you can say needledick."


	5. Chapter 5

"Operative Lawson."

She startled awake to the orange glow of her sleeping computer monitor. Apparently her and the machine had both had the same idea. She rubbed at her eyes and noted that it was three AM on their time cycle, even though Alchera's sun shone through the two windows in her combined bedroom-office. "EDI," she managed around a mouthful of sleep.

"You wished to be informed of when Shepard returned. She is back."

"Good," she breathed. She fought to keep back a yawn as she stood and rubbed at her bare arms. The tank top wasn't enough for a fall-asleep-at-your-desk night. "Is she alright?" She asked dutifully, heading to the bedroom and rummaging through one of her storage lockers for a sweatshirt.

"I would not be the correct thing with which to regard this inquiry."

"Alright." Miranda stopped and put a hand to her forehead. Snapping at an AI would do nobody any good. "Based on your observations of human behavior…what would you say?"

"No."

"Dammit." She pulled on an oversized, off-black, hooded sweatshirt, hoping nobody else would be up to see her wearing the baggy ensemble she often slept in. After stumbling into a pair of running shoes she kept for workouts, she started to the elevator. "Where is she?" She whispered, praying to all deities that nobody would wake up.

"She returned to her cabin."

"That's it for now, EDI."

"Logging you out, Lawson."

She spent the ride up the two decks tapping her foot before she realized what she was doing. Shepard was a grown woman—if she wanted help, she knew where to look. Then again, this particular grown woman had the inane habits of poking at scars on her face, burping contests with Garrus and Kasumi, and referencing nearly impossibly obscure vids.

Yes, she would check on her because it was her duty to ensure she was fit for the mission—that this hadn't hampered her resolve.

That was why.

The elevator door opened and she crossed the small hall to Shepard's door before rapping against it.

"It's open," came a weary reply.

Miranda pressed the green holo display and entered the room. Shepard leaned with her right forearm against the fish tank, face illuminated by blue. She hadn't changed out of her armor yet. "Commander."

She looked over. "Hey…Seattle Sorcerers, huh? I say give 'em a year or two and they'll be top of their division." She grinned lopsidedly, off-setting the obvious puffiness and red around her eyes.

Miranda crossed her arms across the fading logo. "They're arguably at the top of their division now."

Shepard blinked, her smile fading. "Oh yeah. Two years." She looked back to the fish tank, her fingers rubbing together. "Do you have that data you were talking about?" She asked, finally pulling away from the aquarium wall and yanking off her armored gloves.

"I sent the files to your terminal."

"There aren't too many big words, are there?" Shepard raised an eyebrow, making her way to the small office space, unsnapping her greaves and tossing them on the desk.

"Oh?" Miranda tilted her head slightly. "But I was informed you made it to the second round of a spelling bee in third grade."

"Yeeeaaaah." The commander flopped in her chair and hefted off her chest armor, set it lightly on the floor before stretching her still partially-protected arms above her head. "I don't like to brag. Keep it on the down low."

"Nothing more than four syllables, I promise."

Shepard frowned in concentration for a moment and the fingers on her right hand twitched. Finally, she grinned. "Magnificent has four syllables. Uh-huh. Clever."

"I thought so." The hamster wandered lazily from his small house and scratched at the glass case. Miranda, despite her better judgment, pulled forward and looked in.

"You can hold him, if you want," Shepard said, not looking away from checking her messages.

"Why, for the sake of all things decent, would I want to hold a germ-infested rodent?"

Shepard turned, a look of disbelief across her features. "His name is Sir Knight McFurball."

Miranda rolled her eyes at the woman. "_You're_ a furball." She was supposed to be evaluating if Shepard was alright, not examining her pets. Not joking around with her. Dammit, she was too good at getting her off-track. Nobody did that to Miranda Lawson. Nobody. Well…obviously nobody except Shepard. "Look," she said, straightening. She was suddenly aware of her over-sized clothes again, knowing her impeccable posture would nearly be lost in the folds, not that her commander was looking anymore; her head bent to the terminal's screen. "I actually came up here to see how things went on the surface."

Shepard reached her right hand up to squeeze at her left shoulder. "Figured as much," she mumbled. "My ability to lead the team and…" she paused, moving her hand to the base of her neck. "Dedication to the mission hasn't changed."

Miranda nodded curtly and retreated a few steps toward the door. "Good. I'm glad to hear it." When she turned back, Shepard's shoulders were pulled down even further, nearly hunching her over the computer. She could see the muscles in her jaw flexing. _Go_, her inner voice urged. _Leave, you idiot_. The same phrase that had been screaming in her mind when she had let her fingers linger for just a second too long on the woman's face. This was too important to muck up with feelings. Feelings got people foggy-headed and killed. As far as Miranda was concerned, she herself had no feelings. Of any kind.

Then why the hell was she still standing there?

Shepard looked over, eyes watery. She cleared her throat roughly, a poor attempt at hiding the oncoming tears. "Need anything?"

"Are…you alright, Shepard?"

Shepard nodded and wiped at her cheeks, wincing. Miranda fought the urge to stride forward and pull her hands from her face, chiding her on not aggravating the scars. "I'll be okay."

She nodded again and turned to leave.

"Thanks for coming by."

Miranda looked back to her huddled shoulders. "Of course. Try and get a little more rest, okay?"

Shepard gave a tired salute. "Aye-aye."

/ / /

Miranda glanced up from her terminal as her door hissed open later that morning. "Oh. Hello, Kasumi."

The thief jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "You have _got_ to come see what Shep dug up this time."

"I've got a lot of work to—"

"No excuses!" She cut her off, breezing around her desk and pulling on her arm.

Miranda grudgingly allowed herself to be shoved from the office, boots clacking hard against the floor. Shepard was at the forward mess table, a small, portable vid screen projector planted on top.

"I demand we re-paint the Normandy bright pink and install furry rugs everywhere!" Shepard raised a fist.

"Right." Miranda frowned, attempting to place the current vid playing on the screen. It had to be ancient. "I'll be sure to put it on my to-do list."

"This," Kasumi said, motioning toward her and the vid screen, "is apparently the queen of the galaxy."

"Is it?" Miranda sighed heavily and paced to the table. Her face twisted in confusion. "What on Earth is she wearing?!"

Kasumi giggled. "I think the right question here is what isn't she wearing?"

"And why is that man wearing a rug?" Miranda continued.

"If you sit down, you can find out!" Shepard replied cheerily, pulling on her arm.

She sat heavily next to Shepard and crossed her arms. "You do know that there are a million different things I should be doing right now?"

"And _Barbarella, Queen of the Galaxy_ is totally at the top."

"No, not in the slightest." Miranda glanced toward her office door as Kasumi took the seat on the opposite side of Shepard.

"But it should be."

She rolled her eyes and focused on the screen for a brief moment. "No, I don't think it should be at the top of anyone's list of anything."

"Don't judge! You've only seen ten seconds of it."

"And I don't see the pink spaceship…oh. I stand corrected. There it is."

"Well?" Shepard raised her eyebrows. "What do you think?"

"It's atrocious."

"You say the sweetest things." Shepard grinned.

"I need to get back to work." Miranda made to stand, but Shepard grabbed her forearm lightly, stopping her. There was something pleading in her eyes, an unspoken desperation.

"Are you sure? It's a total winner…" She licked her lips, and Miranda could practically see the gears turning in her head. "Come on, we've got nothing to do until we're to Korlus to pick up Okeer."

Only a halfway valid argument, but better than her stumbling attempts at excuses she'd heard just a day before. Another sigh escaped Miranda's throat and she put a hand over Shepard's without thinking. "Someone with real taste in vids is picking the next one when we're en-route somewhere else," she conceded, pulling her hands into her lap.

"Thanks," Shepard whispered.

Miranda shifted her gaze back to the screen. "One of your pop's discoveries?"

"Nah." Shepard leaned back in her chair, propping her right ankle on her left knee. "I found this one all by myself. Don't have much from Mindoir, but shitty vid choices are something that stuck." Her face tightened and she swallowed, then gave a wry grin. "Pop'd be so proud."

"He would," Miranda said softly, looking at the woman's profile. _Dammit, she was poking again_, she thought, peering at the inflamed edges of the open scar along her jaw. Her fingers twitched, remembering the feel of her smooth skin under her hand, the gentle flex of facial muscles as she'd spoken.

Her gaze jerked back to the vid screen.

_Idiot_, her mind hissed. _For a thousand different reasons_.

/ / /

"This is such a nice place!" Shepard said, watching the shuttle lift up and away. It was evening to them, their internal clocks only an hour or two ahead of Korlus' time.

Miranda shook her head, running a hand over her brow. If nice meant ship salvage graveyard, then sure. The landscapers must have thought rust was all the rage. She glanced over to Garrus helplessly.

He shrugged. "You did bring Shepard back as Shepard, I'll give you that."

Shepard drew her shotgun and started forward. "Old-timey rustic kind of vibe, you know?"

"Yeah," Miranda practically snorted, "emphasis on the rust."

A woman's voice started screeching over an intercom, issuing orders and berating all who happened to be listening.

"Eh." Miranda glanced up. "Issuing orders over loudspeaker. Classy."

"Maybe I should start doing that!" Shepard perked up as they continued on. "Everyone to the mess hall!"

"Great." It was Garrus' turn to shake his head. "Look what that started."

"Get out of bed, you sorry bunch of sailors!"

Miranda checked her thermal clip. "I'm going to kill whoever is in charge of those announcements."

"Commander on the way to engineering! Everyone shape up!"

"I'll fight you for those rights." Garrus reached over and hit her shoulder playfully.

"Briefing room in five! If you're not there, you're getting spaced! I demand we repaint the Normandy right now! Kasumi, go steal some furry rugs!"

"Spirits! Shepard, would you pipe down? You're going to—"

A barrage of bullets cut off the turian's warning and they sprinted to cover that sat at the base of a metal ramp.

Shepard chanced a glance over the top of her cover and ducked again as a bullet zinged off the metal barrier. "Hey!" She shouted. "I was in the middle of planning my manifesto!"

"And this," Miranda offered back from her cover, "is why we can't have nice things, Shepard!"

Shepard only wrinkled her nose in response. "Alright!" She looked between her two squad mates. "Garrus, concussive shot. Miranda, I think I saw a guy with shields—overload that bastard. And…" she jumped up, shotgun held at her chest. "Charge!"

Miranda and Garrus swung out from cover as she streaked forward in a path of white-blue. It only took a few shots after the sudden onslaught to finish off the handful of guards. They made their way up the ramp as Shepard collected a few fallen thermal clips, shoving two in the spare ammo strap at her arm. She held out two more.

"A clip for you, and a clip for you…" She spread her arms wide after they'd both taken one. "Everybody gets a clip!"

Miranda pushed her shoulder, unable to help the small giggle that escaped her mouth. Shepard grinned in response, her eyes twinkling. The operative cleared her throat and tore her own eyes away. "Come on," she said, pointing forward. "There's someone we can question."

The Normandy's executive officer had to hand it to her commander, she managed to scare that pathetic, whining merc pretty well, especially considering she'd been not fifty feet away cheering about handing out thermal clips a mere thirty seconds before.

Shepard turned as the man limped away cursing.

"The scare was a nice touch," Miranda said, shrugging one shoulder.

"I like to think so." Shepard smiled and nodded to their left. "Let's keep moving."

/ / /

They really _couldn't_ have nice things, could they? Miranda would take a mission going according to plan at least once in exchange for a great number of nice things.

But no, fighting their way through a krogan berserker breeding ground, Shepard plotting her manifesto to be broadcast over loudspeaker the whole way, had all boiled down to nothing. Or…almost nothing. Actually, rather far from nothing, considering the enormous bulk of a krogan sitting in the tank before them. Shepard turned off Okeer's recording and leaned against the wall, having already called for pickup. She ran a hand through her sweat-dampened hair. "Sorry, guys," she said before taking a deep breath.

Garrus shrugged. "It's alright, Shepard. We got a krogan either way, didn't we?"

"You're joking right?" Miranda leaned her weight on one leg, crossing her arms over her Cerberus chest plate. "We have no idea what would happen if we opened this."

"So what do we do with him?" Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Not exactly toss-out-the-airlock material."

"Hmph." Garrus put a hand on his hip. "If I recall, you were shouting orders about spacing people left and right out there. Being late for dinner, being late for a briefing…"

Miranda nodded. "Being late for lunch, taking the last bacon strip at breakfast…"

"Criticizing your terrible vids."

"Not watching said vids when ordered to."

Shepard smiled. "So you _were_ listening!"

Miranda sighed heavily. "It was the only bloody thing we could hear!"

"I still want a loudspeaker."

"Yes." Miranda waved her hand. "And a pink spaceship and those ridiculous furry rugs. I can't believe I wasted an hour and a half of my life watching that."

Shepard held up a hand. "Okay. To make up for it, we can jet over to the Citadel and I'll find a decent one. I think we've earned a day off."

Garrus laughed. "There is no such thing as decent when you're picking vids. You should probably leave that to someone else."

"You're just jealous, Vakarian." Shepard waved him off and pushed herself off the wall. "Okay, let's look for something to get this thing moving. Switches, buttons…I like buttons."

Garrus turned on his way across the room. "Mmm…can't say Lawson and I were a fan of the last time you went pushing all the buttons."

"Oh fine." Shepard turned to stare at the tank again and Miranda pulled up beside her.

"He's a complete unknown," she said, glancing sideways.

Shepard made a fist and tapped it lightly against the glass. "So was I."

That was true. Miranda had almost thought she made a mistake, the first time she really…met Shepard. She hadn't expected the Butcher of Torfan to burst into a fit of giggles at her off-color comments about Wilson's demise. Not the best conscious first impression…but it had proved to be telling.

She'd expected an iron fist on board, and received instead an impossible woman who insisted on prodding at her facial scars, who cheered about handing out thermal clips, had the habit of pestering everyone so she got to know her crew on a personal level, and attempted to tell the Illusive Man she'd been shot in the ass.

Miranda bit her lip as Shepard turned back to her.

"Not my worst idea."

"The fact that you say that after nearly every idea you have isn't very consoling."

Shepard raised an eyebrow and gave a crooked grin. "Well played, Lawson." Her eyes roved past her face and fixed on something over her shoulder. "YES!" She shouted suddenly, pushing past her. She skidded to a stop at a desk and pushed down a button on a lit computer terminal, grabbing up a thin, metal rod next to it.

"Oh God." Miranda put her hands over her face.

"Shepard, no!" Garrus held out a finger. "Put it down!"

And then her voice cackled to blaring, electronic life through static and a screeching feedback. "For science!"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: For anyone wondering...Barbarella: Queen of the Galaxy is totally a thing. A very bad thing that I should have never picked out of the cheap blu-ray bin at Walmart. Thank God Sigourney Weaver came along and saved women in sci-fi from the likes of Jane Fonda.**

* * *

"So waking the krogan up went well, I presume?" Miranda couldn't keep the I-told-you-so smirk off her face as Shepard walked stiffly into the armory.

Shepard winced and rubbed at her collar bone. "Yes. Very well, thanks for asking. Thinking about doing it again, it went so well. His name is Grunt."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Grunt?"

"His idea." Shepard raised both of her hands to shoulder level, palms out.

Miranda nodded toward the door that led toward the briefing room. "The Illusive Man wants to speak with you."

"What does Needledick want?"

Both of the Cerberus operatives shrugged.

"That's always a good sign." Shepard continued through the room to the second door, muttering to herself.

Miranda turned back to Jacob after the door shut.

"Bullshit," he said, continuing their earlier conversation. "Six head shots? You're messing with me."

"I am not!" She replied indignantly, leaning against the table. "I had six. So you can finally stop bragging about the four you had when you, Shepard, and Kasumi went to recruit Vakarian."

"I will never stop bragging." Jacob crossed his arms and tilted his head up slightly. "The stories only get bigger as time goes on. I think I had seven head shots on Omega, now that you mention it."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Please!"

"Nope, it was definitely eight. So, nice try with the six, but I've got you beat."

"Some days I think Cerberus has the ulterior motive of me babysitting you."

"You don't admire the view?"

"Oh my God. Shut up." Miranda shook her head, grinning slightly despite herself.

"Okay, okay." He laughed and held up a hand. "So…what went down at dinner last night? I found out through Joker."

"Joker?"

"Yeah. Called me up to the bridge and said I had to see something." Jacob leaned against his desk and crossed one leg over the other. "Got pretty heated from what I saw."

"Then you know," she said, turning away and giving a disdainful sniff.

"No, actually, the audio was messed up. EDI fixed it right when Shepard jumped on the table. You lost your cool for a second. Pretty hard to do that to you."

Miranda reached down and toyed with the pistol on the table nearest to her. "She brought up Project Overlord, after accusing me of torturing children. I have no idea what she was talking about, regarding the torture part, but it was none of that tattooed bitch's business—what happened to David."

Jacob rubbed at his goatee, nodding slowly.

"Cerberus stands for humanity, and I…I…" She stopped and crossed her arms. "I'm part of this organization because I believe in what we do." Her words didn't carry the punch she was hoping they would.

"Do you have to tell yourself that every day?"

Miranda glared at him, her mouth going slack as she fought for a reply.

Jacob shrugged. "Someone's gotta' ask you the tough questions."

"I should get back to work," she said abruptly, turning toward the door leading to the CIC.

"Aw, but then I can't tell you about the ten head shots I had on Omega."

She shook her head as the door opened. "Oh, shut it."

"What was that? Couldn't hear you over the eleven—" The door snapped shut, cutting off his words.

/ / /

"Do you have a minute, Miranda?"

She looked up from her computer at the familiar phrase. This had to be about the sudden change in plans after Shepard's talk with the Illusive Man. "Commander. Of course—what can I do for you? Unless it's watching one of those terrible…" She faltered as Shepard sat down heavily in the chair across from her desk, peering intently at a data pad in one hand, the other holding a cup of coffee. Were her hands trembling? She could only barely see the shaking, but it was there.

"Horizon is about to get hit," she said, not looking up. "I was going over that data you sent me again. Wanted another opinion. Judging from the profiles of people Collectors traded for in the past…they're probably going to have biotic barriers. That makes sense…right?"

Miranda settled back in her chair and put an arm across her stomach before propping her opposite elbow on it and bringing her hand to her chin. "Considering the technology they traded, I would say they have the ability to, at the very least, manipulate one."

"Warp would be valuable. Sorry to keep dragging you along, but…"

"It's alright," Miranda found herself saying. "It's what I'm here for, Commander. Besides…" She let a playful grin tug at her features. "Now I get to see more pre-fabs in all their glory. The roots of Commander Shepard."

"What a sight to behold." Shepard gave a slight laugh, still squinting at the information in her hand. "See, now this is what I don't get. I would want to say they'd have shields, based on the kind of tech they have available…but then that security vid footage—the stuff the flotilla sent us after Freedom's Progress—I was looking at it. Nothing like that. No trace of tactical shields, no electronics on them that I could see at all."

"Reaper tech, perhaps?"

"Hmmm…" Shepard twitched her lips back and forth. "Something like a heavy skin or bone weave? I don't know, that's going into medical territory. I just know how to slap medi-gel on something. Ideas on how to deal with that unknown for a team?"

Miranda absently tapped at her chin. "Bearing in mind your style of charging and blasting, you have a considerable amount of the brute strength accounted for in most squad configurations."

Shepard finally grinned, gaze still on the data pad screen. "Are you trying to flatter me?"

"We were having a wonderfully work-oriented conversation there for a second."

"Ah, I know. Ruining the moment and everything." She took a long drink of her coffee.

"Should you be drinking that at this hour? You won't be able to get to sleep."

Shepard cleared her throat. "Kasumi is pretty handy with those flash-bang grenades she finally broke out after that party."

Miranda nodded slowly, the fact that Shepard had dodged the question not escaping her notice. "Another mission where back-up would have been preferable. But…oh, what was it you said again?" She hummed slightly. "That it wasn't your worst idea?" No, but it had to be in the top ten. Kasumi was lucky she found Shepard partially amusing—it was probably half the reason Shepard agreed to go solo on a mission with her only a day after finding her on the Citadel. And lucky it was so damn nearby.

"We got out _alive_," Shepard said, finally looking up to narrow her eyes and grin. "Anyway, she just so happens to think I'm funny."

"If we're dealing with potential armor or armor-like plating, we need someone with considerable fire power."

"Mordin."

"Precisely who I was thinking." Miranda nodded.

Shepard sighed heavily and slid the data pad onto her desk. "If you guys start talking science on me, I'm going to shoot you both, then make sure Chakwas saves you guys, so that I can strap you to a chair and read my manifesto. Over loudspeaker."

"Mmhm." Miranda rubbed at her cheek lightly. "It really was such a shame that Garrus accidentally knocked that computer to the ground."

"And then you accidentally unloaded a full clip on it?"

"Complete slip of the trigger finger, Commander." Miranda fanned her hand out and shrugged. "Honest mistake."

"Uh-huh. I'm going to remember that." Shepard tilted the coffee cup up again and drained it before standing. Her face slowly shed the mirth as she stared at the empty ceramic mug. "I'll go tell Mordin to prep our armor for tomorrow."

"Wait, Commander…speaking of which…I must say. I'm impressed. This mission has been going exceptionally well. As far as Cerberus operations go, this is one of the best I've been a part of."

Shepard glanced down at the insignia covering her shoulder. "Guess it is stamped all over the damn place. I was a little surprised when I first examined everything in the mirror and there wasn't a logo tattooed on my ass."

Miranda rolled her eyes. Her attempt to ease some of the tension she could sense on the woman had gone out the window.

"Maybe a big heart with IM in the middle…little arrow sticking through it." Shepard shrugged and held up her free hand. "Just saying. Maybe you should have hired me for creative rights."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind next time." It was a joke, but it sent a shiver down her spine. Imagining the woman before her on a table again…nothing but a shredded mess of what could barely be discerned as a human.

It hadn't been odd, seeing her up and about—no, Miranda had imagined it in her head a million times as they worked to keep the muscle mass at maintainable levels. It wouldn't do to have Shepard needing three years to be able to run, use biotics, and shoot a powerful gun again.

The strangest thing had been her voice. Her laugh. That damnable grin and sense of humor on the battlefield. A control chip would have at least kept her chatter to a minimum…but then would her eyes glint the same way when she smiled? Would she rant about not having nice things and…shit she was staring.

"Really, though," Shepard said, appearing to not have noticed her lingering eyes as she tugged at her shirt. "On everything? Can't get into my pajamas without being reminded…" She trailed her sentence off, looking toward the window partially obscured by two crates.

Miranda bit her lip, attempting to analyze the look on her commander's face. "Cerberus gave you a second chance," she offered warily. "Perhaps you could do the same for us."

Shepard looked back and shrugged one shoulder. "I'd say I'm on thirds by now," she said, a pained look crossing her features before she flopped into her seat again. "But I'll give it to you. So how did you wind up with them? Another…second chance kind of deal?"

Miranda let a huff escape her mouth at a bitter recollection of her father. She pushed the offending memory aside. "More like a first."

Shepard eased back into the seat slightly. Her body language was open—no crossed arms or legs.

_Why not?_ She thought. "I suppose you've earned the right to know."

And then it was all out in the open.

No, not all. Never all—she made sure of that. Nobody would ever have _all_ of it.

But her father, lack of a mother…her father's idea of a dynasty. Her place in it, or rather now, lack thereof…shots being fired when she ran away…it was all in the open. She resisted the urge to fold her arms over her abdomen; a thin illusion of a safety blanket from Shepard's knowing gaze. At least the desk was there.

"You talk about yourself like you're just a tool." Shepard frowned slightly. "To be used."

That stare. It was seeing more than Miranda wanted it to.

"By your father…by Cerberus."

"Maybe," She said. Too fast. She answered far too fast. "I like to know where I fit in the world. It helps me…find meaning in the way…the way I was created."

Shepard seemed to regard her for a long moment. "I say flip 'em all the bird. If they don't like what they get, then that's their loss."

Miranda glanced away. "I'm not exactly a flip-them-the-bird material, Shepard."

The commander spread her arms out. "Which is why it would be so great!" She waited for a second before giving a small, resigned sigh. "It'd be a damn fine way to go out with a bang."

Miranda shook her head, looking back up. "That's easy for you to say."

"Lots of things are easy for me to say. I think you forgot to put in that…filter…" Shepard pointed to her temple. "That says 'no, dipshit, that's not a good idea to say out loud'."

"I don't forget things. We've both been engineered for greatness, Shepard." Her gaze again pulled to her desk. "The only difference is that you were great before I rebuilt you…and I'm great because of it."

"Y'know," Shepard grunted out, pulling herself from the chair, "as fantastic as I am, I'm going to disagree with that."

"Of course you are," Miranda mumbled, even though there was a small smile forming on her lips.

"That's not what makes you great."

"Then what does?" Miranda finally gave in to the urge to cross her arms.

Shepard shrugged. "The fact that…you don't kill me when I won't shut up on a mission…that you ask me about my Dad and Pop…and you didn't warp me off the table at dinner the other night…and you'll paint the Normandy pink…"

"Nice try, Shepard."

"It was worth a shot." Shepard held up a hand and smiled. "Really," she added, her voice noticeably softer. "You're what makes you great. Not your father, not Cerberus, and not me."

Miranda looked back to her computer screen, Shepard's gaze too…what? Something. An emotion she didn't want to put a name to. "That's kind of you," she offered weakly.

"Kind is my middle name."

"No, it's not."

"Damn. Can't sneak anything by you, can I?"

"Afraid not. Just like I can see you didn't get much rest after Alchera yesterday."

"You don't know!"

Miranda gave her a frosty glare.

Shepard rubbed at the back of her neck. "Alright…so maybe you do."

"Go get some sleep."

"Got it."

"I mean it. As in…immediately."

"Yep!" Shepard waved over her shoulder as she started out the door and turned to the left.

"She's not going to," Miranda muttered to herself.

/ / /

"Can't be all." Mordin took a long breath in through his nostrils. "No, definitely can't."

Miranda glanced at Shepard, who was finishing the third hack sequence. "He's right."

"Got it." She pulled away from the terminal and armed her shot gun. "Alright! What next?!"

They all shifted, scanning the area from the platform in the middle of the field. Despite the cool breeze that teased the dying grass, sweat dripped from Shepard's nose and chin, and Miranda could feel it beginning to trickle down her own neck.

There was a grinding, screeching noise to her left and they all whirled, guns up.

"What the…what…" Shepard took an uncharacteristic step backward.

"Find cover!" Mordin shouted, pushing both of them forward and running for a stack of crates.

"Any idea on just _what the hell that is_?!" Shepard shouted, ducking behind a platform as Miranda made her way behind a stack of Mako tires. It was a giant, metal, bug-like thing, with a gaping mouth full of husk heads.

"Thought you like surprises, Shepard." Mordin glanced over and grinned.

Miranda mentally smacked herself. She'd brought another talker along. She shouldn't have been surprised any more, Shepard seemed to have some built-in quality that roped people into useless conversations. _Ha. Built-in. Oh bloody hell, now you're laughing at stupid jokes she would tell._

"Good surprises!" Shepard leaned out from cover only to have a wall of dirt explode up and into her face, forcing her back behind the platform. "_Good_ ones, Mordin! This is _not_ good!" She shifted, crawling around the corner as the creature hovered closer to her. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Miranda darted from her cover, letting off a few rounds from her pistol, before sliding to the crates where Mordin was.

"Very nice form!" He said, nodding.

"I scanned it," she panted, tapping at her yellow visor. "Armored."

"ShiiiiIIIITTT!" Shepard suddenly shouted, sprinting away from the platform, desperately scrambling to switch from her shotgun to the missile launcher. The white-hot beam from the armored, bug-like monster sliced through the ground behind her, kicking up dirt and grass. "GUYS!" She bellowed.

"Incinerate—now!" Miranda shoved Mordin's shoulder, then sent a warp field at the monster. Shortly after her biotic burst faded, a hail of fire burst against its side.

"Reading of armor level?" Mordin asked quickly, firing off pinging, useless rounds.

"Shit. Still at more than seventy—"

It suddenly pulled up and then slammed down, glowing hexagons flaring around the body.

Miranda gave a horrified glance to Shepard, who was still in the open as the new readings flickered on her HUD display. It had a barrier. "Run!" She shouted.

"It always has to be me!" She wailed, sprinting ahead of the beam. "Do I have a sign on that says 'kill me first'?!"

"No," Mordin said, finally making use of the comm line. "Could rectify. Have plenty of supplies back on board."

"Sure!" Shepard panted back. "Why the hell not?!"

Miranda flung out another warp. "Shepard, husks at your three!"

"Dammit!" Shepard course-corrected, nearly tripping and falling in the process. "At least they're not talking to me. _Do not fight me, Shepard, I am the_…blah blah…"

Miranda shook her head, aiming for the husks at her back. "Would you focus, Shepard?!"

"Y'know, Harbinger is just so long of a name. Harby? Maybe I should start talking back." She turned and pulled the pistol from her hip with her free hand, clutching her missile launcher close with her other arm, and fired a few clumsy shots into the husks behind her. "Don't fight _me_, you glowing, bug-eyed, chatty Cathy freak!"

"Shepard," Mordin quipped. "More husks."

"_I_ am the _vanguard_ of _your_ perfection!" She continued. "Get it? Cuz he says he's the harbinger of our—"

"Shepard, shut up and keep shooting!" Miranda ordered.

"God, the way he talks, I'd say he's five minutes away from inviting me to his birthday party."

"Commander Shepard! Move your ass and shoot!" The Cerberus operative barked.

Mordin nodded as he sent another incineration bomb at the monster. "Good advice."

"Nobody's ever on my side! Fine…I'm guessing that thing has armor?"

Miranda rolled her eyes, despite the circumstances. "Did the metal plating tip you off, or are you always this observant?"

"You know me, Lawson." They watched her duck behind a truck and half the pack of husks exploded after a quick _thunk_ came through the comm line, and she was off and running again. "It's a gift. Try not to be jeal—"

The searing beam caught up with her and she was launched up, then went tumbling through the air a dozen feet before a harsh crash to the ground.

"Shepard!" Miranda shouted, picking off two husks closing on her. "Shepard, respond!"

Her form stumbled up. "I'm also graceful," Shepard wheezed, planting her missile launcher on her shoulder.

"Barrier is down, recommend firing now, Shepard," Mordin said.

_Thunk thunk thunk._

"But, must admit, while combat skills impressive, would not suggest ballet."

Another warp, another incineration code from Mordin. It bought Shepard a few seconds to put more distance between herself and it.

"My tech finally found it—what we call it," Miranda said. "Praetorian."

"What the hell kind of name is that?!" Shepard demanded.

Mordin paced into the open, still firing. "Hmm…Praetorian. Derived from ancient Earth language of Latin, Praetoriani. Definition of—"

"You just knew that off the top of your head?"

"I don't care! Shoot the bloody thing!"

It seemed like it took an eternity to diminish its armor to critical levels. Every time they would start bringing down its armor, it would re-create the barrier. Miranda knew Shepard was buying them time, running in useless circles around the field. Her breathing was labored now, rasping. She couldn't keep it up.

"I…ca…I…" Shepard stumbled across the ground and threw a useless shockwave forward before falling, gasping.

"Shepard, move!" Miranda shouted, dashing across the field, dodging crates, Mordin close behind her.

"Can't…sh…shi…" She started crawling backward, one arm hoisting her missile launcher.

"Yes, shit, I know!"

"No…" A desperate gasp for air. "Shields down…"

_Thunk, thunk_.

"Oh…oh go…oh God." Shepard fired off another missile and curled into a ball on the ground as the praetorian lifted above her again with a mechanical scream, shaking.

Instead of the fiery explosion Miranda expected, it disintegrated in the air, raining black dust down lightly to the scarred ground. The GARDIAN laser finally choked to life above them and blasted at the Collector ship.

"Hm," Mordin said as they pulled up to Shepard. He offered her his hand. "Anti-climactic. Expected explosion."

"Yeah," Shepard managed, wincing. "Glad to see you're good too, Mordin."

"Aaah, yes, manners! Wait, manners!" He turned to Miranda. "Would you like to help up? Wait! Already helped up. Apologies, Lawson, apologies. Shepard, are you alright?"

Shepard and Miranda exchanged confused glances at his rambling. "Never better," she muttered, straightening. Dirt smeared across her features, beginning to turn to mud from sweat, and a few blades of dry, brown grass clung to her cheek.

Miranda chuckled and reached forward to gently brush at her face, at least clearing the majority of the mess off. She paused briefly, taking in the vacant, almost hollow look in Shepard's eyes. "Shep—"

"Ship taking off!" Mordin warned, putting a hand on both their shoulders. A blast of hot air caught them all in the front, forcing them backward several paces.

Shepard shaded her eyes, watching the ship lift off. "Dammit!"

"No, no, no!"

The three turned as the mechanic from the bunker came dashing into the yard.

"Don't let them get away!"

"Right," Shepard snapped at him. "Let me hop on my magical flying pony to go stop them."

"You asshole!" He turned and bee-lined to the commander, planted his hands on her shoulders, and shoved uselessly. "You let this happen! You let most of us get taken!"

"I could always call them back and tell them they missed one," she growled.

"They took…they took…you have to fix this!"

Shepard grabbed his shoulders and brought her face close to his. "They're _gone_." Her voice was dangerous and low. Miranda could see her shaking. "I did every damn thing I could, including having your sorry ass stay behind to keep you safe. Would have been nice to have some bait running around out here to keep the husks off me."

"Shepard," Miranda said quietly, stepping forward.

"What the hell else do you want me to do?" She continued. A bead of sweat pulled down from her hairline, cut down her cheek, dipped against a glowing scar. "I can't bring them back! I can't bring any of them back!"

"Shepard," Miranda repeated, putting a hand on her arm. "No one could have done more."

Shepard pushed the man away and ran her hand through her hair, pacing away from Miranda's touch.

"Wait…Shepard." The man adjusted his shirt, eyes narrowing. "I know that name. You're supposed to be some sort of big Alliance hero." He spat on the ground. "What a joke!"

"Commander Shepard."

Shepard's head jerked up and Miranda winced. She knew that voice from old recordings; saw vid footage of Shepard fighting alongside them.

This was…unexpected.


	7. Chapter 7

"You're standing in the presence of a legend, Delan. And a ghost."

"Oh great." The mechanic nodded. "All the good people we lost today and _you_ get left behind. Screw you guys." He waved them off and started away. "I'm done with you Alliance types."

"K-Kaiden?" Shepard stuttered out. "You're…you…you're okay." She smiled and moved forward, as if to hug him, when he stiffly rammed out his hand.

"I thought you were dead, Commander. We all did."

Shepard looked down and examined his hand, like she didn't quite know what to do with it. "Uh…yeah. I think I kind of was. Getting spaced with a suit breach tends to…incapacitate you."

He pulled it back and crossed his arms.

Shepard jabbed a thumb over her shoulder, toward Miranda and Mordin. "Cerberus patched me up. Good as new—bad jokes and everything."

Mordin nodded. "Entertaining, at least."

Kaiden took a cautious step back. "So…the reports are right. You're with Cerberus now."

"Reports?" Miranda raised an eyebrow. "So much for security."

Shepard glanced toward Mordin. "Guess I really do need that sign. Let's make it neon, get some blinky lights. And my damn loudspeaker."

Kaiden gave Miranda a scrutinizing once-over, explaining how he got to Horizon. Miranda wasn't particularly interested—she was busy observing Shepard. Her skin was still flushed from the fight, but there was a tightness in her face, a carefully placed mask of business. Finally, her attention snapped back to the man's voice. "…That you were working for the enemy."

Shepard ran a hand over her mouth, giving Miranda a side-long glance before returning her full attention to Kaiden. "I'm working to keep our colonies safe. That's what should matter. You saw what just happened. Collectors are taking us, and they're working with the Reapers."

"I want to believe you, Shepard—"

"Then do!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "What is it with people these days? Is it really so hard to believe I'm back up and running? I'm standing _right here_."

Kaiden's eyes narrowed. "No. It's harder to believe you're working for Cerberus."

"_With_. With them, for now."

"Say whatever you want, Commander, but what if it's Cerberus behind the whole thing? Using the threat of a Reaper to lure you in?"

"Typical Alliance attitude," Miranda scoffed. "So focused on Cerberus you're ignoring the real threat."

Shepard stared at him blankly. "You're kidding, right? Have you and the Council all been drinking stupid juice? You know what we lost chasing Saren, and taking down Sovereign. You know _who_ we lost. You're really going to pull the 'Reapers aren't our biggest concern' card on me, Alenko? You're letting your feelings get in the way of the facts." She pointed to the sky. "The big-ass facts that just took off with more than half of this colony!"

"Maybe. Or maybe you're just doing this because you feel like you owe Cerberus since they saved you. Maybe that's the reason you joined the Alliance all those years ago. Maybe that's why it was so easy to turn your loyalty on and off."

_That was low_, Miranda thought. _Low, indeed_. She could see Shepard stiffen.

He shook his head. "You've changed."

"Yeah, you too. You're a grade-A dick, now."

He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Well at least I still know where my loyalties lie. I'm an Alliance soldier. Always will be. I have to report back to the Citadel—they can decide if they believe your story there." He turned and started walking away.

Shepard raised her hand. "Try to get the meeting on vid conference and hang up on them for me. Anderson wouldn't let me last time I was there."

He turned slightly, face full of what Miranda could only place as disappointment, and his words carried that tone. "It's a good thing Ash isn't around to see this."

Miranda and Mordin lunged forward to keep Shepard from barreling after him, both grabbing an arm and having to yank back. "No, Commander—" Miranda moved one hand to Shepard's wrist as she reached for her pistol. "What exactly do you plan on doing with that?" She asked sternly. "Shoot him?"

Shepard's eyes didn't leave Kaiden's retreating back. They were blazing…watery. Every muscle in her neck flared with her short, shaking breaths in, even after Kaiden disappeared behind a pre-fab unit. "Let go," she finally muttered.

Mordin and Miranda complied.

"We're getting out of here. I've had enough of this colony," she spat out, pressing her fingers to her ear. "Joker? We're ready for pickup."

"Copy that, Commander. The pilot is gonna' have to wait for the swarms to completely dissipate from around the colony though…y'know, unless you want to bring him back all frozen and in creepy Collector stasis."

Miranda was somewhat relieved as Shepard allowed a small smile on her face.

"We'll spare him that. ETA?"

"EDI says twenty minutes."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "That is…fantastic. We'll be ready."

"Copy that. See you when you get back."

Shepard started back toward the heart of the colony. "Look for anything useful we may have missed on our way in, but keep it close."

Miranda felt something in her gut twist as she watched Shepard pace slowly to a pre-fab unit and lean heavily against the doorway, gazing in. She quietly walked across the dying grass to stop next to her, Mordin humming some unrecognizable tune as he started searching the unit next to that one. "Do…you want to talk about it?"

Shepard wiped roughly at her face and winced, then glared at her hand as if it had moved on its own accord. "When we get back on board, I need you to organize pick-up for survivors. Use those 'unlimited' resources to get them set up somewhere nice."

Miranda nodded. "Understood, Commander."

Shepard finally glanced over. "Did you know?" She asked flatly.

The operative frowned slightly. "What?"

"Did you know the Illusive Man set this up?"

"What are you talking about?"

Shepard's eyes pulled to the wall behind her, traversing slowly across the interior of the unit. "Okay."

Miranda held back a sigh. "Would you stop being strangely cryptic and…_oh_." What that moron Kaiden was saying earlier…he'd gotten a tip about the colony…and then the Normandy had…and the only explanation was her boss, luring the Collectors to the colony because of Kaiden. She shuffled awkwardly at Shepard's side. "Shepard, if they wouldn't have hit here when we knew, they would have hit somewhere else, and we wouldn't have gotten there in time at all. It would have been Freedom's Progress all over again, chasing dead leads and…" She faltered as Shepard leaned her back against the wall, then sank to the floor, cocking one knee up to rest her arm on it.

"I know. I get it." She looked up, her face tired and drawn and dirty. "I'm the Butcher of Torfan, remember? The end justifies the means and…all that bullshit." Her hand twitched slightly. "Someday, I'm going to shove that belief up someone's ass and do what feels like the right goddamn thing to do."

Miranda offered her a slight smile. "That's the spirit."

Shepard leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. "And then we're painting the frikkin' ship."

"You're not going to give that up, are you?"

"Mind over matter." Her mouth twitched sideways in a grin.

/ / /

Miranda sighed heavily and pulled several pieces of paper from the printer. It wasn't her favorite thing, analyzing handwriting samples to make sure records weren't being forged in the Mumbai cell, but it was part of her job. She absently reached for a cup of pens and pencils, staring at the scanned copy of the report, giving the first page a once-over. Straight lines, at a glance—driven. She could respect that. It was…she stopped and looked up as her hand groped several times for the cup and came up empty. "What the hell?" Her head swiveled around, searching the pristine surface of her desk. Finally, she frowned, jumping out of her chair and starting for the door. "Kasumi, I swear I will—"

An uproarious bout of laughter echoed through the mess hall as she stepped out. She looked over to find Chakwas, Shepard, Garrus, Joker, Kasumi, Grunt, and surprisingly…Jack…circled around the forward mess hall table. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she crossed her arms and attempted to look as disinterested as she could as she approached.

Grunt, the krogan, was the first to spot her. His blue, reptilian-like eyes flicked up to meet her. "This game…" his voice was deep and gravelly. "Is…hmph."

Jack, seated to his left, punched his arm. "No fucking codes from the tank, huh? Good thing I'm the shit at this." She met Miranda's eyes and a dark look flickered across her face. "Cheerleader."

Shepard pulled her gaze up from a small piece of paper in front of her. "Miranda! Do you want to play?"

Her gaze swept over the table's occupants. It looked like they were in teams…Chakwas and Shepard, Garrus and Kasumi, Grunt and Jack, all with small stacks of paper…and then Joker wasn't particularly close to anyone, but had a sheet of paper with tally marks on it. She shook her head. This was no time for games—the Illusive Man would probably be wanting to speak with Shepard within the hour. "Wait…Moreau, shouldn't you be on the bridge?"

"A guy's gotta' eat!" He said, spreading his arms wide. "And play a little ten-second drawings! Besides, that nosy, blue, I-know-everything thing's got it covered for now."

"So…" Miranda looked to Shepard again. "What is it?"

"The fuck's it look like?" Jack asked, motioning around as if it were obvious.

Miranda gave a disdainful raise of one eyebrow. "It looks like you're all about to write a report."

That earned a hearty laugh from everyone at the table, even Jack.

The former convict gave her a quick up-and-down before motioning toward Joker. "Delicate-dick doesn't have a partner. He's been keeping score."

"Hey." He pointed to Jack. "I told you, it wouldn't be fair to pit these superior skills against all of yours. I'm doing you guys a favor."

Chakwas snorted. "Complete and utter rubbish, Joker."

"Rubbish?" He shot back. "Doc, don't know if you've been looking at Shepard's drawings, but…yeah." He held up one hand, almost dismissively, with a grin. "Not gonna' go there."

Chakwas slung an arm around Shepard's shoulders. "Ah, yes, but what she lacks in ability, she makes up for with gusto."

"Chakwas!" Shepard protested. "You're supposed to be on my side!"  
"Oh, yes. Of course, dear." The doctor cleared her throat. "In that case, Shepard is the best artist on this ship."

Miranda spotted the cup of pens in the center of the table and reached forward to grab one.

"Oh good!" Jack jumped up and pushed her, forcing her to fall into the seat next to Joker. "You will play."

Shepard's eyes flicked between the two, no doubt attempting to gauge if table-jumping measures would soon be needed.

Miranda folded her hands neatly on the table. "I suppose a round or two couldn't hurt. But then I do need to get back to work."

"Great!" Shepard smiled and looked to Garrus. "Your turn to decide what it is."

"Yes." Kasumi tapped her pencil against her chin. "And nothing lame!"

"Sniper rifle wasn't lame," the turian countered, waving his pen. "It was relevant."

"Come on," Shepard said, waving her hands in the air. "Try and get creative. Like Grunt or Jack."

Garrus glanced to his side. "Hammer killing a varren by whacking its head? Cannibal?" He reached up and tapped at the side of his face.

"It was fucking creative!" Jack protested. "You're just pissy-hearted Grunt actually guessed cannibal before anyone else!"

Joker leaned closer to Miranda and attempted a conspiratorial whisper as the others continued their conversation. "Sooooo…truth be told, I'm really not that good. I mean, nobody's really that good, but seriously. I'm _bad_."

Miranda glanced at the small sheets of paper strewn across the table. A myriad of stick figures, arrows, and frantic circles. "I'd say everybody is rather…oh, whose is this?" She pulled up one; a fairly decent dragon.

"That'd be mine, Cheerleader." Jack smirked at her as she let it flutter back to the pile.

Miranda turned to face Joker, her eyes not meeting his, but instead focusing on his shoulder. "What is this game?"

He laughed, but then froze, his eyes widening. "Oh shit," he said quietly. "You really don't know, do you?"

She hated the warmth that started creeping into her ears. "If you'd explain the damn thing, then I would," she hissed.

"Got it." He adjusted the hat on his head before making sure the others were still concentrated on Garrus attempting to make a decision. "Someone from a team picks something—a phrase, writes it on a paper, and passes it around. One person from each team gets to see it. Obviously, they're the artist and the other's the guesser. Artists have ten seconds to draw it, and then first one to guess gets a point." He smiled and shrugged. "Easy, see? Nothing to it."

"Joker," Chakwas said, holding a slip of paper face-down. "Who's your artist?"

"Uh…" He looked between Miranda and Chakwas before grabbing it and shoving it into the XO's hands. "Miranda!"

"Oh?" Chakwas twirled a pencil between her fingers. "We don't get to see these masterful skills come out to play?"

"Uh, see—"

"Hardly," Miranda said, leaning forward to grin at the doctor. "Perfection has many faces, and Mister Moreau thought he should give me a chance to prove myself first." She glanced down to the slip of paper. _Shepard attempting to charge a heavy mech_. She bit back a laugh and offered it across the table. "Grunt? Jack?"

Grunt reached his huge hand over and took it, then let out a loud guffaw as soon as he read the phrase.

Shepard rubbed her hands together as she looked to her partner. "This should be good. Everyone ready?"

Joker pushed a small square of paper to Miranda. "Here. Nice trash-talking by the way. Didn't know you had it in you."

She offered him a small smile. "Intimidation is always useful."

"Ready as we'll never be!" Kasumi said, eyes already to the paper in front of Garrus.

The turian nodded. "And three…two…one…go!"

It was jarring when all the guessers started counting down from ten together, and Miranda found herself particularly distracted trying to get the proportions of Shepard against a heavy mech correct. But by then, they were already to four, so she hastily scribbled some lines behind the Shepard figure and remembered that 'attempted' was in the phrase. She jotted down a few stars around her head and swirling lines, hopefully conveying disorientation.

"Zero! Hands up!" The guessers chorused.

"Flying pony!"

"Garrus charging a fucking krogan!"

"A cat jumping on an armored N7 agent!"

"Shepard, really?" Chakwas shot back. "A cat?"

"No talking!" Shepard pointed.

"Heavy mech!" Joker suddenly exclaimed.

Miranda nodded vigorously and twirled her fingers, signaling him to keep going.

"Heavy mech…peeing," Joker continued. "No, no…heavy mech…"

"Heavy mech killing some bastard!" Jack exclaimed, face scrunching up at Grunt's rendition.

"Garrus…what the hell is this?" Kasumi picked up his sheet.

"It's art, Goto." He snatched it back. "Now guess before we lose another point!"

"Heavy mech exploding?" Joker pushed his hat back on his head.

Miranda raised her eyebrows slightly and shrugged, then tapped at what was supposed to be Shepard's figure.

"Heavy mech…getting punched? OH! Oh, a heavy mech getting charged!" He shouted.

Miranda smiled and her eyes darted to Shepard briefly, who happened to look up and meet her gaze. She offered a smile in return.

"Vanguard charging a heavy mech?" Kasumi asked, riding off of Joker's guess.

"Me! Shepard charging a heavy mech!" Shepard shouted. Chakwas frantically motioned her onward.

Joker peered at the little stars around her head on Miranda's drawing. "More like trying—oh! OH! SHEPARD ATTEMPTING TO CHARGE A HEAVY MECH!"

"Aw man." Garrus tossed his writing utensil to the table.

Grunt nudged Jack and held his hands out to his paper. "How could you not see it?"

"Oh yeah…" Jack pursed her lips. "Guess I can see it now. Why is Shepard's head squiggly?"

"Because she's charging."

"That doesn't fucking make sense."

"It does too."

Shepard laughed and looked to Garrus. "Uh-huh. Funny, big guy."

"No other person I know in the entire galaxy would think to charge one of those things, and be pissed when it didn't spontaneously combust." Garrus laughed. "You said be creative."

"No!" Chakwas raised a hand and slapped Shepard's shoulder lightly. "I don't know of anyone else's head in the galaxy that could take a beating like that."

"Yeah, yeah," Shepard called. "Let's all laugh at the expense of my hard head. Go on! But now it's my turn." She gleefully snatched up a paper. "And it's payback time, Vakarian."

"Still have time for another round?" Joker asked, turning to Miranda.

"It's only fair," she said, shrugging.

"Cool." He grinned and turned back to face Shepard as she debated.

Miranda let her gaze travel around the table. Maybe…just maybe…they did have a chance. She was sitting at the same table as Jack and they weren't killing each other. Yet. She guessed if she stayed for more than a few rounds, that would probably change. Garrus and Grunt were at the same table—a krogan and a turian. She found herself back to staring at Shepard as she hunched forward to write on a paper, hair falling from behind one ear to brush against the table. She passed the paper to Joker and looked up, catching her eyes. Another crooked smile spread over her features, but Miranda could still see a lingering pain in her face.

"You and Joker are going down this time," Shepard said, scratching at her temple with the point of her pencil.

"Psh!" Joker handed the sheet across to Jack. "Keep dreaming, Shepard. I've got the brains that put you back together on my team. She knows your every secret!"

Jack's eyes bored into Miranda when she happened to glance over. "Sounds like it could be interesting. What's her first name?"

"Commander," Shepard cut in. "My first name is Commander."

Jack rolled her eyes. "Oh fine! Whatever. Let's get this shit started."

"Everyone ready?" Shepard asked. "Okay. Three…two…one…"

Miranda didn't join in on shouting out the countdown, too busy attempting to decipher what Joker's mess of lines and stick figure meant, as well as a blob to the side.

"Zero! Hands up!"

"Um…" She rubbed at her chin. "Is this hair?" She pointed to the wavy lines sticking out of the stick figure's head.

Joker shook his head.

"Heh heh. Vakarian getting his face hit by a rocket," Grunt said easily. "That story is a good one. Good fight."

"Dammit!" Shepard crossed her arms. "You guys are too good."

Garrus feigned hurt and put a hand to his chest. "Oh, Shepard, that's low. After all I went through to help you up your dating game."

"What?!" Joker peered across the table. "Oh. Well, yeah. Maybe you should just look off hers next time," he said, looking to Miranda and motioning to Jack's drawing.

"Yes," Miranda conceded, "because my next guess was Medusa."

"Me-what-sa?" Joker picked up his paper again. "It's a turian spikey head!"

"No, those are wavy lines."

"You just don't have good taste in art."

Garrus nodded and nudged Kasumi. "I feel your pain, Joker."

"I couldn't pay someone to take this if I stole it," Kasumi said, picking up his drawing from the last round. "I thought maybe it was Grunt breaking a chair trying to sit on it."

Miranda jumped as her omni-tool gave an automated ping sound. She pulled up her messages and cleared her throat. "Shepard…the Illusive Man…"

The woman pulled herself up from her seat. "Good. I have some words for him."

"Make sure fuck is in them," Jack said. "A couple times."

Miranda knew the best shot at an argument intermediary was leaving, so she stood as well. "I need to get back to work, also." She put her pen down, then grabbed it again, remembering the reason she came out in the first place. "Wait…who got these supplies from my office?" She asked as Shepard made her way to the elevator.

Kasumi raised a hand tentatively. "That might have been me."

Chakwas stretched her arm over and grabbed the score sheet. "Joker!"

Miranda started back to her office.

"Uh…what's up, Doc?"

"Why does nobody have points?"

"Not true."

"You weren't even playing!"

"I figured…you know, since I was keeping score, I deserved points too."

"We didn't have nineteen rounds."

"Shepard encourages creativity."

"Oh you fucking brittle-boned bastard! I will tear you apart!"

"No, no, wait! I'll fix it!"

"Mmhm," came Grunt's heavy voice. "That's more like it."

"Whatever. Gang up on the guy with glass bones, that's really professional."

"Kasumi and I have about thirty points, I'm fairly sure," Garrus said.

"Seems like a pretty accurate guess," Kasumi agreed.

Miranda shook her head as her office door opened, then closed behind her.

/ / /

"Hey, uh…Lawson?"

Miranda raised an eyebrow as Joker's voice echoed through her cabin. She glanced over at her computer terminal, red pen hovering over the handwriting sample in front of her. "Moreau? It's almost three. Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Absolutely!" He replied cheerily. "Except I had some coffee before our game earlier, and that stuff just sticks with you…hey, thanks for playing, by the way. Even though…you know, you're a bad guesser and lost our second round."

"I say the blame lies on you for that." Miranda put down her pen and sighed. "What's the problem?"

"Oh, right. Well, see…EDI just told me I should probably alert Chambers for something."

"Then alert Chambers. EDI knows what she's talking about."

"Actually…she asked me if she should. It—it asked me if it should, then suggested Chambers."

"Would you get to the point?"

"Shepard doesn't exactly trust shrinks. And something's wrong, and Chakwas is sleeping and Garrus would…I dunno', probably calibrate me if I woke him up right now."

"What do you mean, something's wrong?"

"EDI says she's in emotional duress. That sounds both…weirdly sappy and dire at the same time, right?"

"_God_, you're impossible." Miranda rolled her eyes. "EDI? Care to explain?"

"Mister Moreau has put it exactly how I worded it, Operative Lawson. Shepard seems to be in a state of emotional duress. Human interaction would be preferable."

"What kind of emotional duress?" Miranda pressed. "This isn't like when you had Chakwas and I rush up for her poking at her face like a five year old, is it?"

"I believe that is negative. I would not have informed anyone, per Shepard's request, except I have programs overriding secondary orders when it regards serious concerns for the commander's safety or health."

Miranda finally stood and started for her door, at least not having to worry about anyone seeing her in her pajamas. She was still in her white suit. "Alright," she sighed out. "I'm on my way. Is she in her cabin?"

"Affirmative."

"If she doesn't open her door, override the lock."

"Acknowledged. Anything further?"

"No."

"Logging you out, Lawson."

Miranda ran a hand through her hair, staring at the inside of the elevator door as it pulled her up two levels. EDI tended to over exaggerate things, being an AI and missing the finer points of human behavior…or maybe some of the bigger points, as well. The door slid open and she crossed the hall; knocked on the door. "Commander?" She waited a moment, then knocked again. "Commander, I know you're up. Joker and EDI told on you." Silence. "EDI, override the door." The red circle turned green and she pushed it, then strode in. "Hello?" She asked to the aquarium-lit room, continuing down the steps. She turned toward the couches when she saw no form on the bed. "Shepard," she said quietly, pulling toward the couch.

She was huddled on the ground, pulling her knees tightly to her chest, forehead resting on them. There was a quiet sniff. "Do you need something, Miranda?" Her voice wavered slightly.

"It's usually a bad sign when you have an AI worried," Miranda tried nonchalantly.

"I'm still committed to the mission and able to lead the team," she said around another sniff. "I just need to…gather my thoughts."

Of course the last mission would have pushed her over the edge. Between visiting the Normandy crash site just a few days before, and then Kaiden and his venom on Horizon, and _then_ realizing the entire thing was a set up from the man she was taking orders from…she slowly lowered herself onto the floor next to the commander, crossed her legs, and clasped her hands in her lap.

"On Torfan," Shepard said quietly, "I watched Kaitlin Yang go down in front of a pyro."

Miranda nodded slightly. She'd read Shepard's report; marveled at how she and the other eight soldiers managed to make it out alive.

"The dreams started changing," she continued. "It's this crew, the crew from the SR-1. Ash goes down in flames this time, but the pyro…it's different." She looked over and met Miranda's gaze. "It's me." And then the tears started again as she hunched her shoulders, hugged her knees tighter, and hung her head.

Miranda didn't exactly know what to do. She hadn't expected this. She'd expected an explosion, at Cerberus, at the Illusive Man, at her. Maybe even a session of her avoiding all of her questions with an assortment of jokes focused around terrible vids. Not this. Never this.

"You can leave," Shepard choked out. "It's okay."

Yes. She needed to. This sort of thing definitely qualified as emotional entanglement.

Nightmares were personal intel, shared with trusted sources. Miranda couldn't afford to think that way. She was Cerberus and Shepard would never be able to trust Cerberus, not after Horizon, not after Project Overlord.

She scooted closer, hesitantly put an arm around Shepard's shoulders. Shepard leaned into the contact, resting her head on her shoulder; forehead against her neck, hot breath slamming against the rectangle of her exposed chest in broken heaves. "I'll…I'll stay," Miranda whispered hoarsely.

Shepard's shoulders tensed as she attempted a sentence. "Miranda…are you—"

"Shepard," she cut her off, hugging her closer and pressing her cheek against the top of her head. "Yes. I'm sure."

The woman nodded weakly.

"I'll stay."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: As always...your follows, reviews, and faves give me warm fuzzies inside and make my day. Thank you, thank you! :)**

* * *

_"Hey! Come on, these dishes aren't going to do themselves, hot shot!"_

_ She stopped dribbling the basketball and tucked it under one arm, letting the cool breeze toss her unruly hair around her features. The early-afternoon sun glinted off the metal of the pre-fabs, spilled feeble rays across half-dead grass on the lawns. "Dishes are lame! And this basketball is calling your name, Dad!" She pushed the sleeves on her sweatshirt up, attention already back to the basketball hoop set up at the beginning of the driveway._

_ Travis Shepard laughed and shook his head; his torso framed in the open kitchen window. "No—no, you're not doing this to me again."_

_ She held the ball up in front of her face. "Traaaaviiiiiis! Coooome oooout to plaaaay!"_

_ "Get in here and help me with the dishes!" He tried again, his smile never fading. He held up a plate coated in suds. "These are calling your name!"_

_ She issued a heavy sigh. "Are you scared?"_

_ Travis wiped a soapy hand against his shirt, leaving a wet splotch across the faded blue fabric. "Scared? Ha! Baby girl, I could beat you in my sleep."_

_ "Yeah, before I got these nifty things!" She reached around to the back of her neck and rubbed where the new implants were. Early birthday present…early by two months, but it wasn't every season cycle biotic surgeon specialists came to some ass-end-of-nowhere colony. "Why don't you come show me how it's done, old man?"_

_ "Old man! Oh, now you've done it."_

_ He disappeared behind the wall between the kitchen window and front door for a moment before making his grand exit. She laughed and held out the ball as he stomped into the driveway, worn work boots not even tied, and a red-checkered dish cloth tucked into his back jeans pocket, flopping with his steps. "I'm glad you see it my way," she said with a grin._

_ "Just one game of HORSE so I can school you, then we have to get the dishes done…or Pop will kill us both." _

_ She crossed her arms. "The only killing to be done here is by me. On this very driveway. With that ball."_

_ Travis shook his head and dribbled it a few times. "Where in the galaxy did you learn to talk smack like that?"_

_ "There's no doubt I'm your child."_

_ Travis pulled her close and planted a kiss on her head. "None at all. Now step back and learn, princess!"_

_ "Dad, I'm sixteen. And—look at these shoulders. I could like…give a frikkin' krogan a piggy-back ride!"_

_ "Sorry, your highness. Do you prefer queen now?"_

_ "Stop it!" She giggled and shoved his shoulder. "You know," she said proudly, planting her hands on her hips, "my friends at school started calling me Shepard."_

_ Travis lined up a shot. "What a wonderful name! I swear I've heard it somewhere before."_

_ "You or your husband maybe?" She grinned as he sunk the ball through the net. "You know, or your wonderful, good-looking, talented, thoughtful…benevolent…brilliant daughter?"_

_ "Maaaaaaybe," he said, catching the ball on its bounce back and then holding it out to her. "Might ring a bell or two. And you forgot humble. My daughter is so very humble."_

_ "Oh yes, humble goes without saying. But just a bell or two?" She laughed and took up his former position. "I'll be sure to tell Pop that when he comes home with whatever terrible vid he found today."_

_ Her dad laughed. "What was it last week?"_

_ "UGH. Something about...you know, I'm not even sure. _Arctic Blast_. Arctic blasted its way to the bottom of the box office when it came out a hundred and fifty years ago…I just…" she shook her head after she made the same shot. "Pop is so special."_

_ "And that's where you get it from."_

_ "Dad!" She laughed and jumped on his back. He staggered forward a few paces, but was able to hold her up. "You're just jealous!"_

_ "Exceedingly so," he said, patting her forearms as they gripped around his shoulders. He took a shuffling step to the side and picked up the basketball. "Ready to see real skill?"_

_ "Blow me away." She set her chin lightly on his left shoulder as he readied to take the shot. "You're totally gonna' miss."_

_ "Ssshhhh. You'll break my focus."_

_ "Right. Sorry." She sighed as he adjusted his footing, before adding in a whisper, "You're still gonna' miss."_

_ His arm shot up and the ball arced into the net. "Haha!" He cheered and threw up his hands, nearly tossing her off his back in the process. "Who's the old man now, huh?"_

_ "You still are." She slid off and jogged to retrieve the ball as it rolled into the yard._

_ "Oh! You wound me, princess!"_

_ She rolled her eyes. "Seriously!"_

_ "Right. What are they calling you? Shepard. That's a cool-kid name, right there!"  
"Oh man. It sounds so much lamer when you say it's cool."_

_ "Okay, time for you to make the shot with me on your back." Travis smiled widely. "Then we can see who gets to be called THE Shepard!"_

_ "I can do it! Let's go!" She squared her shoulders. "I won't even use biotics!"_

_ "Good, because no matter what Pop says, it's cheating!"_

_ "Only when I play with you."_

_ Travis gave her a comical scowl. "I'm not sure I like that the other two members of the Shepard clan get to gang up on me with their magical blue powers."_

_ "Aw." She ran forward and grabbed him in a hug. "We still love you, even though you're boring." He smelled like dish soap and clean laundry. "And they're not magical blue powers. They're biotics."_

_ His laugh reverberated in his chest, tickling her ear. "Alright," Travis said. "Hoist me up on these krogan-piggy-backing shoulders and we'll see if you can compare!"_

_ And then the first explosion went off._

* * *

"Colossus! Get down!" Shepard shouted, turning as soon as the shutters opened on the bunker. She dove backward, Kasumi and Garrus to either side of her. A huge bolt of blue slammed into the room, shaking loose concrete chips from the corners where the walls met the ceiling.

"Yep," Garrus grunted, rolling onto his back. "Just like old times." He crawled to a doorway that led to a metal ramp going down, and took cover there.

Shepard gave a slight giggle before scrambling back toward the windows and crouching below the low wall. "Kasumi? You alright?"

Kasumi, still sprawled on the floor with her face to the ground, held up a hand. "It's…always like this around you, isn't it?"

Shepard looked to Garrus and shrugged. "Uh…yep. Yep, pretty much."

She finally tilted her head back. They all flinched as another electric bolt slammed against the far wall. "Shep, you need a new hobby."

"What?" Garrus asked. "You mean shooting geth isn't a hobby?"

"Getting shot _by_ geth isn't a hobby?" Shepard added.

Kasumi rolled onto her back and pulled out her pistol. "No, and no."

Shepard looked to Garrus again, shaking her head slowly. "You didn't bother to tell me. How rude."

"Hey, I'm in the same boat as you. I thought it was perfectly fine. You know, extranet dating profile material."

Kasumi tilted her head toward him. "Tell me you didn't." The room shook again under a fired shot from the colossus.

He pointed an accusatory finger toward Shepard. "Her idea!"

"_Tell_ me that taking down Sovereign and his geth goonies isn't a total turn on!" Shepard held out a hand, grinning widely.

"It isn't a total turn on," Kasumi deadpanned. "When is the last time either of you went on a date?"

Shepard cleared her throat. "Garrus, does that stairway go anywhere?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "Down a level and around a corner."

"Don't you ignore me!"

"Looks like that's our ticket out," Shepard continued, as if not hearing the thief. "Ready to go save ourselves our favorite quarian?"

"You're ignoring me. I can't believe you're ignoring me. What are we, fifteen?" Kasumi tossed her hands up in the air helplessly.

"Hardly!" Garrus said, crouching and running over to help her up. He pushed her toward the doorway. "Fifteen year olds don't get big guns."

Shepard ran down after them, and they met Kal'Reegar at the base of the ramps. They ducked behind the low, metal wall, and listened to him explain the dead marines, and that the colossus had a self-repairing protocol. Shepard gave a strangled grunt. "Of course it does."

"I can help you guys out." He whacked a missile-launcher in one of his hands. "I've got a rocket launcher that the sun hasn't fried yet. Figure I can give them something to shoot at other than you."

Shepard winced as a hail of concrete exploded over their heads. "No, we can do this. Stay down."

"You kidding me? These things wiped out my whole squad!" He jumped up and aimed the rocket launcher outward, and Shepard jumped up as well, pushing him behind the concrete wall.

_Why didn't we stand back here before? _She thought briefly. _Oooh well. Live and learn. _"Tali told me to keep you alive. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't feel like dealing with a pissed-off Tali'Zorah vas Neema!" Shepard said, shaking his shoulder lightly. "Take care of that suit breach as best you can, and we'll go kick some colossus ass, alright?"

Reegar seemed to contemplate her for a moment before giving a resigned nod. "Fine."

"Don't you fine me." Shepard drew her hand back, but offered a grin. "Stay down." She returned to Garrus and Kasumi behind the metal wall, and peered over the top for a moment. "Alright," she said, pulling back down as a dozen geth shots rang off the top. "I've got it."

They both nodded, eyes glued to her.

"Model ship building."

Kasumi promptly smacked herself on the forehead.

"I've got an SR-2 model up in my room, gathering dust! They're at the shops! Why not?" Shepard spread her hands out.

"Yes, very good," Garrus said. "Now. About that colossus."

"Oh yeah." Shepard drew the new submachine gun and adjusted it for incendiary ammo. "About that."

Kasumi sighed heavily. "You were thinking about toy ships and not about where to go?"

"I'm not a good multi-tasker!"

"Which is exactly why I was thinking you and Lawson—"

Shepard jumped over the low metal wall. "And away we go! Let's play this by ear!"

"Don't you run away from me!" Kasumi said, following her into the open field littered with crates and barrels.

"Shepard," Garrus said over the comm line, "there's no way we can fight through the middle. Try the left—I've got a bead on some geth on the right. I'll cover you over there."

"Copy that!" Shepard turned and focused on a geth coming toward them on the left flank, started pulling back her arms to ready for a charge, when electricity sparked through her system, knocking her backward. "Ah! My barrier!" She grappled at her armor. "Oh shit!" She pulled up her gun and sprayed frantically in front of her, setting two synthetics on fire up the ramp.

"Go, Shep! We're clear!"

"I'll be right behind you guys," Garrus added.

She charged forward as another geth stepped into view. After shaking her head from the impact, she swung her submachine gun up again and fired off several rounds. It jumped around in her hand, spraying in almost a circle around it as it started struggling up. "Oh shit."

Two decisive bangs put it down and she glanced to her right.

"Thanks, Goto."

"You're not very good with that."

"Hey. It's not my fault it handles like a squirrel on red sand. I didn't mean to hit you back there! I was getting used to it!"

"So, about what I was saying earlier."

"Y'know, I don't recall you saying anything." Shepard started running across a sun-splashed ramp, her suit beeping in her ear. "Dammit!" She had to stop in the middle of the light, firing off her gun as more geth spilled from behind a crate. "Where are these things coming from!?"

"You can't avoid me forever!" Kasumi sing-songed, her pistol chorusing with a more accurate staccato.

"We are so not having this conversation," Shepard grumbled, running forward into the shade as soon as the geth were gone.

Garrus chuckled over the line and ran across the ramp, skidding into the shade. "Oh, but we are."

Shepard heaved a sigh of relief as her suit sizzled off and gave an affirmative beep. "You know what conversation I want to have?" She asked, starting forward again. "You and Tal—" An electrical ball slammed into her and she went stumbling forward again, crashing heavily to the ground behind a concrete wall. "Agh! Seriously?! WHY ME?" She shouted as Garrus helped her up. "God, Garrus. My life," she moaned.

"Try my life," he offered. "Being so good-looking has its drawbacks."

Shepard traded the jumpy submachine gun for her pistol and aimed just to the left of him, firing off two precise shots. "Okay. We'll grieve our lives after we take down these…what did Ash call them?"

"Blinky flashlight bastards, I'm pretty sure."

"Let's get these blinky flashlight bastards!" Shepard shouted, charging forward.

/ / /

"Hahaaaa! I love this thing!" Shepard howled, clutching the arc projector to her chest. The colossus in front of them shuddered one final time before exploding in a hail of sparks and fire.

"Hm!" Garrus slung his sniper into the quick release at his back. "See, Goto? Shooting geth is too a hobby."

Kasumi shook her head. "Thanks to these new SMGs we picked up, I could probably add 'getting shot by Shepard' onto my hobbies list."

"It's not my fault they jump around like a freakin' monkey doing ballet. It was _one_ time!"

"Shep, for some things, once is too many."

"You did not _die_, if you recall. It didn't even break your shields."

"Give me a second," Tali's voice rang in their comm line. "I sealed the door to keep more geth from getting inside."

Kasumi crossed her arms as they waited at the door. "Back to the important matters at hand. You and Lawson."

Shepard could feel the heat in her ears and hoped she was still sweaty and disheveled enough from the fight that the small, observant thief wouldn't notice. Attempting to distract herself, she switched from the arc projector back to her submachine gun, pretending to inspect it.

"Are you—you're blushing! Garrus, look!"

Shepard scratched at the back of her head. Nope, not post-fight messy enough. Of course not. "She is way out of my league," she mumbled.

"Aw, Shep." Kasumi grabbed her arm. "You're self-conscious. How cute!"

"There," Tali said. "It's open."

"Oh, rats. So sorry, we'll have to talk about it later." Shepard roughly pulled away from Kasumi and jammed her hand against the green button before rushing in. "Tal—oh!" Her gun spouted off a hail of fire at the three geth bodies on the floor as she jumped back, one foot raising instinctively.

"Don't worry," Tali offered, her voice betraying a grin, still facing away from them. "I got them for you already."

"Didn't want another crawler like in the last room." Shepard motioned over her shoulder.

Garrus laughed. "Pretty sure she almost wet her pants."

Tali turned from the console in front of her to face Shepard.

Shepard hesitantly spread her arms. She didn't want another Kaiden thing…but Tali had had some time to get used to the idea…hadn't she?

"It's good to see you," she finally gushed, closing the distance and giving her a hug. "Keelah!" She suddenly exclaimed, pulling back and glancing down to her suit. "You're covered in geth guts!"

"I like to keep it interesting." Shepard shrugged one shoulder and grinned lopsidedly before her face fell. "How'd…your mission go?"

"Ugh!" She exclaimed, bringing a hand up to rub at her purple face plate. "This entire thing has been a disaster. All for data about stars blowing up."

"As much fun as that sounds…uh…" Shepard rubbed at the back of her neck. "We could really use you on the Normandy, Tali."

"Just like old times!" Garrus chimed in. "With…a few new faces." He nudged Kasumi.

Tali glanced at the thief. "Who told you it was a good idea to wear black?"

"Okay!" She raised her hands slightly. "Mistakes were made today regarding the wardrobe!"

"I voted for red," Shepard said, before looking back to Tali. "So what do you say?"

Tali nodded. "I promised to see this mission through. I did. I'll come with you…and if the Admiralty Board has a problem with it, they can go to hell. I just watched the rest of my team die."

"Maybe not the whole rest of your team, ma'am."

"Reegar!" Tali exclaimed, pushing past Shepard lightly.

Shepard tilted her head. "Yeah, you told me to keep him alive. Took a little persuading but…there he is!"

"I still think some missiles would have helped," Reegar said, shaking his head. "But…your old captain is as good as they say."

"Captain?" Shepard muttered toward Garrus. "Did I get an honorary promotion?"

"What, for taking down that Colossus?"

"Heck yes."

"I'm pretty sure I remember Goto and I doing a bunch of overload codes on that bastard's shields so you could play point-and-shoot with your fancy new gun."

"Arc projector."

"You know what I mean."

Shepard straightened as Tali turned back to her.

"Let's get out of here," she said. "I've had enough of this rock."

Shepard nodded. "And I am _done_ getting baked into Normandy crew crispy snacks."

/ / /

"Jacob Taylor!" Shepard buried her head in her hands. "Seriously!?"

"What?" He looked over to her.

"Introduce yourself to EDI, the ship's new…gah! Why didn't you tell _me_ to go shake the Collectors' hands when I was on my way to Horizon?"

He seemed to have a problem connecting the two issues. Finally, realization crossed his features. "Oooohhh…quarians and geth…"

"Yeah." Shepard strode over and patted his shoulder. "Take a history class."

"Hey, you okay, Commander?" His voice followed her back toward the door.

"Yeah, why?" She turned.

"Don't know…you're holding your arm a little funny."

Shepard waved him off. "Just sore."

"You sure? Miranda and Chakwas will kill you if you don't let them know something's up."

"I'm fine."

"Just saying. You've been going pretty much non-stop for the past week or so. Krogan, geth, Collectors, Normandy crash site, Blue Suns trying to take you prisoner…"

"Taylor." Shepard continued toward the door. "I said I'm fine."

"And that's not even counting the fun we had all last month. Freedom's Progress, getting Vakarian, recruiting the professor, Kasumi's party thing. You've been—"

"Jacob, if you don't stick a cork in it, I'm going to have Jack toss you out the airlock."

"Understood," he said quickly.

/ / /

"Commander?"

Shepard whirled from looking in the freezer at the familiar accent, a carton of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. "It wasn't me," she said around a mouthful of cold. She was rewarded with a short smile from Miranda. She figured she deserved a little ice cream for taking down a colossus…_without_ a Mako.

"Oh, of course not."

"I think it was Kasumi."

"Mmhm. Undoubtedly."

"Uh…" She held out the spoon. "Want some?"

"As enticing as that may be, I…have a question." Miranda looked away briefly.

"Okay. Sure." Shepard closed the freezer door and leaned against the counter. "Shoot."

"Not…not out here," she murmured. "Could you come to my office?"

She straightened, picking up on the serious tone in her voice. "Did I do something wrong?" It could have been one of any number of things. David Archer jumped to the forefront of her mind, followed by Miranda coming up to her quarters the night before, and then all the recorded ship data there had to be of her calling the Illusive Man needledick…

"What?" Miranda's face flickered with a look of confusion before she shook her head. "No, of course not. Just…come on."

Shepard followed her into the office, where she paced uncertainly behind her desk for a moment. She suddenly wished she had left the ice cream in the freezer. She nudged it onto the desk and jabbed the spoon in it. "Is everything okay?"

Miranda crossed her arms loosely and stopped at the side of the desk. "It should be nothing. I mean…I know our mission takes priority over…I…" She balled up a fist and pressed it to her forehead. "Dammit, I'm not good at this."

"It's alright," Shepard said quietly. "I'm listening."

"Look. Remember when I told you about my father and how I had to get away?"

She nodded.

"I took my sister with me. She's been living a normal life—on Illium—safe from my father."

It wasn't hard to discern the animosity that surrounded the word 'father'. "I'll go ahead and put this out there…I'm not always the best at putting two and two together."

Miranda nodded, giving a distracted, sad grin. "Right. You tend to guess three and five."

"Or charge and shotgun, take your pick." Shepard smiled, hoping to ease some of the nervousness she could practically feel radiating from her XO.

"Something doesn't feel right, Shepard. I'm having her relocated…and I'd like to be there to make sure everything goes according to plan. Which…puts me in the unpleasant position…of asking for your help."

"Oh come on. I'm not that scary, am I?" Shepard raised an eyebrow. "I mean you did just catch me scarfing down ice cream."

"I thought that was Kasumi."

"Right. You just caught Kasumi, looking suspiciously like me, scarfing down ice cream." She smiled as Miranda let out a terse laugh. "Is it the scars?" She reached up and touched the one on her forehead lightly. It seemed to be sealing a little better than the others. "It's the scars, isn't it?" She waved her hand in the air, dismissing herself. "What do you need? We're en-route to Illium—is she there?"

"Yes, that's why I brought it up now…I have a contact we would meet in Nos Astra. She's overseeing the relocation."

"Okay. We'll do it."

"That…that's it?"

"Um…yeah." Shepard shrugged. "Miranda, you're part of my crew. I care about you. I can't have us going into the toughest fight of our lives so far with clouded heads." _WHOOPS_, her mind screamed. _Care about you…was that too forward? No! No, because I care about everyone. Garrus, Tali, Kasumi, Zaeed—that old, grizzled bastard…even that weird pair down in engineering…oh God. Shut up. Shut up and go before you make it worse_.

Miranda looked at her as if seeing something for the first time. She was calculating, evaluating. Shepard resisted the urge to squirm under the steel blue eyes. "Thank you," she finally offered. "This…this means a lot."

"Of course." Shepard nodded and turned for the door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Miranda asked teasingly.

"Huh?" Shepard turned back to see her staring at the ice cream tub. "Oh. Damn that Kasumi. Leaving her shit all over the place." She crossed to the desk again and grabbed it.

"Shepard, are you alright?"

"Just sore."

"Hm. Sleeping all crumpled up on the floor is terrible for your posture, you know."

Shepard grinned. "Oh, but it's so comfy down there."

"You did have a pretty wonderful pillow."

"I did." Shepard's eyes roved around the cabin, unable to meet her gaze. "Thank you. I…haven't said that yet."

"Of course," she answered quietly. "How did you sleep?"

"I had a dream about Mindoir," Shepard said, settling to look out the window. "Horizon reminded me…of…home." She swallowed hard in the silence that followed. Shepard could see Miranda still examining her from her peripheral vision. She pretended not to notice and offered the tub of ice cream one more time. "You sure you don't want any?" She asked, a little too loudly.

"Hm." Miranda grinned and crossed in front of the desk before pushing it back toward Shepard's chest. "Tempting. But not right now. I have to get back to work."

"Oh fine. Tali wants to show me some vid anyway." Shepard said, taking the spoon in her right hand.

"Thank God. Perhaps someone will instill in you a proper appreciation for vids."

"Not a chance. I've got one lined up for her to see next. It's a winner."

"Please tell me there isn't a pink space ship involved."

"Nope. It's like unkillable zombies in space."

"Of course it is."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I apologize in advance for the crutch of in-game dialogue. Again. (But sometimes it's just gotta happen, right?) I try to paraphrase some things, (and add smart-ass remarks of course) since sometimes I find that, if in-game dialogue is used too heavily, it can be a total turn-off to an otherwise wonderful chapter or fic. Hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

Miranda hated breakfast time. It was the only thought that kept replaying as she scanned the two mess tables for an acceptable seat. She could eat in her office, but the Illusive Man had insisted she _play nice_ to ease the aliens' concerns. Why need to play nice when Cerberus was no inherent threat to them?...Anymore. They were less than nothing; not even blips on the powerful organization's radar. Breakfast was terrible. Of course there was the task of being social while sleepy, and…she shook her head to stop the memories before they came.

"Lawson!"

She looked up at the familiar, flanging voice and found herself smiling. At least she had a halfway ally, other than Shepard and Jacob. The latter was at the table as well, seemingly trying to avoid looking at the quarian Shepard had recruited the day before. She quietly sat next to her Cerberus teammate. "Good morning, Garrus," she said, pleased her voice wasn't the least bit raspy. She'd been up for two hours already, but hadn't talked yet. She nudged Jacob, who still looked ready to doze off. "Morning, Jacob."

He gave a low grunt in reply and pulled his cup of coffee closer to his chest.

Garrus forked around a pile of what Miranda was guessing were dextro hash browns on his tray. "Taylor's not much of a morning person."

She reached over and patted his back affectionately. "Or nights. Or…afternoons, some days."

He only looked over through squinted eyes and gave her an icy glare.

Garrus chuckled. "Ray of sunshine." He turned to the quarian—Tali—and motioned between Miranda and her. "Tali, this is Miranda."

"Oh yes." Tali crossed her arms. "We've met."

Miranda held back a sigh. Veetor went with Tali in the end, anyway. "Yes, though not under ideal circumstances." She stuck her hand across the table. "Shall we try again?"

Tali's helmet twitched slightly, as if weighing the options of actually accepting the handshake. Her arms remained firmly crossed. "I'm here for Shepard."

Garrus cleared his throat. "Ah-he-hem. Harrumph. Hm. Ahem."

"Shut up," she said, whacking his arm. "So are you." Her head turned back to Miranda, her eyes like oval, glowing pearls behind the purple face plate. "_You_, however, are not."

"Tali, come on," Garrus said, shrugging one shoulder. "Give her a chance. She's the one who brought Shepard back."

Miranda finally pulled her hand back. _That didn't work nearly as well as I'd hoped. This is where 'playing nice' gets me, Illusive Man._ "It was a lot of people," she said, clarifying. "But yes. I was project lead."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better for what happened to the Migrant Fleet?" Tali pushed.

Miranda raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Completely up to you." She hadn't, per-se, completely approved of the method when it was brought up a few years before…but she couldn't argue with the data it brought. Data they were now using against the Collectors. Data that may well have saved Shepard's life on Horizon, by being prepared. Or…mostly prepared. That new one—that praetorian—had thrown everyone for a loop.

"Hm." Tali gave a single nod. "I'm glad we have an understanding, then."

Miranda wasn't completely sure what 'understanding' that would be, although it probably had something to do with the fact that Tali didn't like her, didn't trust her, and would be open about it. "I can respect that," she said.

The quarian finally uncrossed her arms and offered her hand across the table. "As can I."

Miranda's head tilted slightly as she shook the enviro-suit glove. Unexpected, this small turnaround, but not unwelcome. This woman could fight…it would be an asset to have her watching her back when the time came.

Garrus sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Now that that's all cleared up…where the hell is Shepard? We've got training in an hour, and then we dock in Nos Astra in four." He looked to Miranda expectantly.

"I have no idea. I haven't seen her since yesterday…afternoon."

He grinned. "And that's what you get for not coming to dinner."

As much as Miranda hated breakfast, dinner was even worse. Everyone who wasn't a morning person was up for chatting—a circumstance that had turned particularly sour with Jack only a few days before. "We're on a ship. There aren't many places she could be," Miranda said. "I'll go find her after I finish."

Garrus nodded. "What about training?"

"Just make sure everyone is suited and in the shuttle bay by ten," she answered, cutting a small sausage link with her fork. _You just put Garrus in charge of something_. She looked over to Jacob, who was still staring absently at his coffee cup. Why hadn't she automatically defaulted to the one person she knew she trusted on this ship? Her eyes flicked briefly to Garrus, who was absorbed in attempting to steal a fork-full of hash browns from Tali's tray. _It's only because Jacob is half-asleep. He would probably forget between here and refilling his coffee,_ she reasoned with herself. _Mmhm. Keep thinking that. Shepard and her friends are growing on you_.

No. Unacceptable. This was no time for friends or anything else.

They would all probably be dead in a few months, anyway.

/ / /

"Commander?" Miranda poked her head into Shepard's private quarters after opening the unlocked door. She was suited and ready for training, in her Cerberus armor, but her visor had yet to be turned on. "Shepard?" She tried again after receiving no response.

She stepped into the room and glanced to the right. The space hamster was nestled against the glass of its enclosure, sleeping. The private terminal desk was empty, but the second desk, inside the room, could be seen through the display case. Shepard was slumped over it in a pair of dark sweatpants and loose, white, t-shirt. Miranda knew the Cerberus logo was printed proudly across the front.

She walked further in and approached the sleeping figure quietly, glancing over her shoulder to try and see what she was looking at. Or…had fallen asleep on.

Papers.

Yes, papers did have a certain advantage when it came to manually comparing multiple information points, without the annoying shuffling of data pads and flipping their digital pages. She leaned closer. They looked like Cerberus reports on technical scores of personnel. The page pinned under Shepard's right elbow had _DAVID ARCHER_ printed across the top.

"Oh…and why were you looking at this?" She whispered, gently nudging her arm aside. Certain math scores had been highlighted, along with a few phrases of the summary at the bottom. David was safe, now. Attempting to figure out why Cerberus…no, why Gavin Archer, had gone ahead with the atrocious experiment, was useless. She looked to the desk again and carefully maneuvered another sheet from next to her head. She froze as Shepard shifted in the seat with a small grunt, but when it was clear she wasn't up, her attention was back on the paper.

_O[REDACTED] LAWSON_.

How did Shepard find this? Of course, the woman had come back into her office not long after their conversation to get a few more details. She'd told her that Cerberus had been keeping her sister safe and that they were coming up with a positive reason to move the family.

Why were math scores highlighted on Oriana's sheet as well?

She shuffled David's out to hold them side-by-side.

Something icy gripped her chest as her eyes pulled toward the summaries. Shepard had been highlighting similar phrases and scores.

_Shows extreme promise…Asset for humanity…99 percentile of overall comprehension in areas 7-10…Candidate for pioneer research opportunities_.

"Pioneer research opportunities?" Miranda ground out. "Is that was Overlord was? A pioneer research opportunity, Mister Archer?" She stopped, realizing that Gavin Archer couldn't have written the same things on Oriana's profile.

It was Cerberus. Cerberus had written those things.

Her breath hitched and the room seemed to sway slightly as she looked back down to Shepard's sleeping form—cheek pressed against the desk surface, highlighter loosely in her right hand, another few sheets of paper pinned under her face and left hand.

She discarded the two profiles on the desk again, then leaned down and gripped Shepard's shoulders lightly. "Shepard," she whispered. "Come on. Wake up."

"Shmshfff…don't…" she grumbled, shifting again. "Don't let them…mmf…choose where…" she heaved a sigh, eyes staying shut. "She goes."

Miranda bit her lower lip and nodded, even though her commander couldn't see the gesture. It would be easy to hack into the system and erase everything having to do with where her sister and her family was going. Or maybe she could change the booking at the station and forge those records. Oriana would _not_ be part of whatever pioneer research opportunities there were. Especially if those opportunities were anything like Project Overlord.

She closed her eyes briefly, trying to banish the sight of David in that horrendous death trap, trying not to imagine Oriana in one of those. It didn't work.

Shepard had found something she'd overlooked. A chink in a carefully assembled set of armor Miranda had set up for Oriana. It would only take one more mind like Gavin Archer to exploit it and her sister would wind up…

Her gut twisted and her insides gave way to a vacuum for a moment. She was probably just being paranoid, but Cerberus should know better than to have overlaps like that in profiles. It was made perfectly clear all those years ago that she _would_ be paranoid for her sister.

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning down and resting her forehead just above Shepard's right shoulder blade. Her sister would stay safe, thanks in no small way, to the woman who pilfered ice cream and had the most horrifically shoddy taste in entertainment. "Thank you."

Shepard's back rose and fell with her deep, steady breathing; right trapezius muscle flexing and relaxing slightly under Miranda's forehead.

Before Miranda's brain had time to keep up, had time to process…her lips pressed against the shoulder.

She yanked away as soon as she realized what she did, hand flying to her mouth. She turned away, frowning. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all. She cleared her throat, heavy with a million different emotions. "Shepard," she said, a little louder. "Come on, Commander. Wake up."

Shepard jolted up. "In the garbage," she mumbled.

Miranda looked over her shoulder, eyebrow raised. "What?"

Shepard's face conveyed even more confusion than what Miranda felt must be showing on her own. "Huh?" She rubbed at her eyes. "I…was having a dream…Mordin and Tali were at my house for dinner…and they asked what to do with the forks, because we had to fight a giant octopus later…and we were supposed to throw them in the garbage."

Miranda couldn't help but laugh. "A giant octopus?"

Shepard held up her hands. "Beats me." She turned back to the desk. "Oh…Miranda, I…I found something. I don't think you should—"

"I know," she said, cutting her off quietly. "I saw."

Shepard scuffed her fist along the desk, facing her once again. "I can't surprise you with anything."

"I was impressed," she offered.

"Impressed is good." Shepard shrugged and rolled her shoulders, yawning. "So—wait. Why are you all armored up? Oh shit!" She grabbed the digital clock and stared at it. "Dammit, EDI! What the hell? I told you to wake me up at nine!"

"My apologies, High Master Commander of the Zoo Ship Normandy."

Miranda crossed her arms and tilted her head.

Shepard ran a hand through her disheveled hair. "That's a…" She cleared her throat. "A joke."

EDI continued on. "Waking you up at 0900 would have meant you only received thirty six point nine minutes of rest."

"I was about to fight a giant octopus!" Shepard countered, stumbling to her armor locker. "How is that restful?!"

"Shepard, you've only been sleeping an hour and a half?" Miranda asked, glancing at the display.

"You're fired!" Shepard exclaimed toward the ceiling. "You nosey, blue, holographic tattle-tits!" She glanced to Miranda. "Go get training underway. I'll be there soon as I'm dressed."

Miranda nodded. "Alright." She started for the door.

"High Master Commander of the Zoo Ship Normandy, while you do technically have the authority to fire me, it is not suggested."

"Oh, so _now_ you try to flatter me, after you make my XO wonder if I'm crazy for you calling me that. Flattery will get you nowhere, EDI."

"Even if I compliment your shotgun skills?"

There was a short pause. "Oh, well when you put it that way…by all means. Go on."

Miranda giggled as the cabin door shut.

/ / /

"No, Shepard," Miranda caught her shoulder as she started to swing into the sky car. "That won't be happening."

"Oh, come on!" Shepard protested. "It's a car, not a hovering…hover…thing."

"That would be Hammerhead, Commander," Jacob said, plopping down in the back seat.

"Smart ass," Shepard shot back, hurrying around to the passenger door and climbing in.

Miranda gave her a side-long glance as she started the car and pulled it into the air. Shepard had been a little hesitant with some of the training exercises a few hours before. From what she'd seen, she'd figured it was her right side bothering her. Probably nothing more than stiff muscles, but something to check on when this entire situation with Oriana was done with.

Shepard leaned forward and jabbed at the radio. "I wonder if there's anything good on," she mumbled. She flipped through the channels, letting small garbles of songs and words echo through the small space. "Nope. Nope. Nope. Oh, hell no."

Jacob leaned forward. "Come on, Shepard! That one was good!"

Shepard held up a hand as she continued flipping through stations. "Jacob, I'm not trying to judge, but if you seriously tell me you listen to that, I'm kicking you out of the door. Right now."

"There's nothing wrong with country!"

"That's it. You're going!" Shepard turned around as if to climb into the back seat, when Miranda whacked her shoulder.

"Eclipse gunship," she said. "Dammit. They'll be unloading troops to the warehouse."

Jacob and Shepard both turned to watch it descend away from them. "Damn." Jacob swatted Shepard's hand from his shoulder, and she pulled back to her seat.

"Let's hope they really do want to take us alive," Miranda said.

"Think Eclipse mercs would fall for my 'got shot in the ass' line? We've ruled out Blue Suns, those prudish bastards."

Miranda looked over to Shepard again and felt a familiar smile attempting to push its way onto her face. She focused on the path in front of the car when the gunfire started. "Hold on!" She shouted, jerking the steering wheel sharply to the left.

"Oh shit!" Jacob tumbled against the right door before grabbing a seatbelt and wrapping his hands in it.

Shepard pounded her fist against the roof once. "Living on the edge!" She shouted.

"Miranda, did you—"

"No, she's just nuts, I thought you'd realized that by now!" Miranda cut him off, veering again.

"I thought on Freedom's Progress, she may have been having some side effects from drugs wearing off or something!"

"Woooaaaaaah! Living on the eeeedge!" Shepard shout-sang.

Miranda's grip on the wheel tightened. "Those aren't the words to that song, Shepard!"

"I know! I'm improvising!"

"I thought Zaeed was exaggerating after Purgatory," Jacob said, grunting as the car shifted again.

"Not in the slightest," Miranda gritted out, spotting where they could go down. "Though the singing is a new one." She slammed the wheel forward and gracelessly skidded the car onto a warehouse floor. "Everybody alright?" She asked, looking back to Jacob.

He struggled upright from the seat. "Yeah…yeah, I'm good." He patted his sides. "Let's do this."

Miranda swung her gaze to Shepard, who was clutching none-too-subtly at her right shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm good." She offered a grin, then looked forward and motioned out the windshield. "Looks like we've got company."

"Indeed." Miranda kicked at the door and her two companions stepped out after her as they folded upward. She made her way forward to a meat-hunk of a man with glowing tech-armor. "Since you're not firing yet, I trust you know who I am," she called out confidently.

"Yeah. You're the bitch that kidnapped our boss' little girl."

"Whoa now," Shepard said, holding up her hands. "No need for name calling."

"Kidnapped? This doesn't involve you," Miranda snapped. "I suggest you take your men and go."

The man gave Shepard a quick evaluation with a flick of his eyes up and down. "Don't know who your pals are, but Captain Enyala said you'd be coming. She's already moving in on the kid, and she knows about Niket. He _won't _be helping you."

"Your pals?" Shepard crossed her arms. "Excuse me, I'm the one with the rocket launcher, buddy. I—hold on." She held up an index finger and turned her head slightly before attempting a whisper to Miranda. "So, uh…Niket. He's on…our side, right?"

"Yes."

Shepard's gaze darted above Miranda's head and her eyes widened slightly. "Oh, good. But uh…about that…kid comment. Um…what was that about?"

The man gave a humorless laugh. "She didn't tell you, huh?"

Miranda rolled her eyes. Why in the world was Shepard playing twenty-questions when they had people to kill and her sister to save? Shepard was still looking above her head, too. "It's complicated, alright? We share the same genes, just not the same birthday. I don't have time to get into it!"

Shepard nodded, then turned back to the man, her left hand twitching. "Right. So, I've decided that if you're nice and apologize to my friend for calling her a bitch, and leave, then we'll let you live."

The man took a haughty step forward. "Enyala ordered us to give you one chance to walk away. So I'm gonna' give you to five—"

The slight humor that had been on Shepard's face flickered off and she straightened. "I'm going to give you to three. One."

"Really?" The man pressed, taking another step forward.

"Two."

"'Cuz the whole time we've been talk—"

"Three." Shepard reached forward and circled her arms around his head, then whirled them around quickly, snapping his neck. She winced and reached for her pistol.

Miranda and Jacob took the moment to fire their guns at the two men who'd been at his sides. Miranda loaded the mercenary in front of her with more slugs than necessary, and was about to add a few more, when an explosion shook the floor and she looked up, surprised.

Shepard was pointing her pistol forward, laughing. "Oh shit! Hahaha! Did you see the look on that salarian's face? Oh man! That was pricele—"

"Get down!" Miranda yanked her into cover as the shooting started. "Was that why you were pissing away our time?"

"What, the explosive crate? Hell yes." Shepard poked her head over the top of their cover and fired off several rounds before ducking again to change the thermal clip. "You didn't see it?"

Miranda felt the heat creeping into her cheeks. "No. No, I didn't."

"Well, you played along perfect." Shepard grinned and patted her cheek lightly before jumping up. "I see shields," she said, bullets zinging off her barrier. "Miranda, overload!"

And with that, she was away in a streak of white-blue.

/ / /

"Hold on. Shepard…you…you deserve to know about my sister." Miranda couldn't bring herself to look at the woman as she spoke.

"Yeah, that's why we're here, right? Let's go get these bastards." Shepard made as if to move forward when Miranda caught her arm.

She looked over to Jacob. He was just as in the dark as Shepard. "Oriana is my twin, genetically speaking. But my father…grew her…when I was a teenager. I couldn't let what happened to me happen to her, so I took her when I ran." Her gaze anchored to her feet.

"That had to be tough," Shepard said quietly, at length.

"I wasn't even the first one he made, Shepard. I was the first one he _kept. _There was no question that I had to take her. If you knew…" She stopped herself and swallowed hard. "If you knew what my father was like…I grew up without friends, pushed to meet impossible standards, humiliated when I couldn't attain them…my father never wanted a daughter. I was only a…I was…I don't know what I was to him." She finished her pathetic, stuttering attempt at explaining bitterly, with a sting in her eyes. "I wasn't going to let that happen to Oriana."

Shepard put a hand over Miranda's. "Then let's go make sure that doesn't happen."

"Thanks, Shepard," she breathed.

"You're welcome."

The three of them stepped into the elevator when Shepard looked over again.

"Know anything about the layout up there?"

"Lots of moving crates full of explosive material." She raised an eyebrow. "So watch where you're aiming."

"Operative Lawson." Shepard put a hand to her chest. "Are you insinuating that I shoot at explosives willy-nilly?"

"Your words, not mine."

Shepard's mouth, much to Miranda's delight, dropped open and Jacob laughed.

"Oh! Oh, she got you good, Commander."

"Well played, Lawson." Shepard nudged her shoulder. "Well played."

/ / /

"That wasn't so bad."

Miranda pushed Shepard aside and shot cleanly through the head of the last, straggling merc who had raised his rocket launcher. Shepard bit her lip and cocked her head to the side. "You were saying?" Miranda put a hand on her hip.

Shepard shook her head and raised her eyebrows. "That wasn't so bad?"

"Come on. We have to get up there. The next level is where Niket should—"

The radio at her hip cackled to life and Enyala's voice bounced off the steel floor and wall as Shepard dug in a medi-gel dispenser wall-pod. Niket? Turning over the…no. No, that couldn't be right. She looked up and found that Jacob wouldn't meet her gaze.

Shepard hit the call button for the elevator.

"Maybe…maybe she knows we're listening," Miranda said. It sounded lame, even to her. "And she's trying to…I don't know. Distract us."

Shepard stepped into the elevator. "You trust Niket?"

"Of course. He's my oldest friend. The only friend I had, you could say."

"Did he know about your sister?"

"Not until recently. It was too personal to share." Miranda whacked at the holographic display with her omni-tool pulled up, sending sparks flying. The tinny music playing over the intercom wasn't helping anything."Dammit, why won't this thing go any faster?"

"And there's no chance your father could have…"

"I'm sure he tried," Miranda scoffed, turning back to Shepard. "But why betray me now when he could have years ago? I trusted him with my life when I ran. I don't know why…" She shook her head.

Shepard only looked straight ahead and shuffled her feet slightly. "Here's to hoping it doesn't get awkward."

/ / /

"Aaaaaand it's awkward."

If Miranda hadn't had her gun aimed at a man she'd called friend not half an hour ago, she would have hit her commanding officer. Yes, it was awkward.

Shepard only managed to up that factor when making it known to everyone she wanted a shotgun like Enyala, gawking about the air the asari had gotten when she was shot, and then playing another twenty-questions game. Except there was no moving, explosive crate to save the day.

Just when Miranda thought it couldn't get any worse; when she was about to pull the trigger on someone she thought she could trust, Shepard had decided to play the damn hero.

And then Niket had the same shotgun blast to the back that the asari did.

She didn't bother stopping at the body after the rest of the mercenaries had been killed. She was bee-lining for the elevator. "Come on," she said coolly. "There could still be more where Oriana is. I want to go and make sure she's safe." She grabbed Shepard's arm lightly as she waved her omni-tool over a nearby terminal. She saw the number _6,000 _flash across the screen. _They really shouldn't leave those credits lying around like that. Not that they'll mind, now, anyway_.

"Right." Shepard followed her into the elevator and Jacob pulled in after the two.

Miranda braced herself on a console. "I can't believe…I can't believe Niket sold me out." She stared at the wall. "I didn't even see it coming."

"Even with all your upgrades…you're human. Just like the rest of us. Give or take an implant or two for yours truly."

"But I let it get personal." She pressed a hand to her forehead. Feelings. Damn feelings always got in the way. "Why didn't you let me kill him? I could have handled that." Her words lacked the weight she wished they had. "Watching him get gunned down by that asari bitch…"

"I'm sorry."

There was a light touch on her back. She refused everything screaming at her that she could turn around and curl against Shepard; the one who, without even knowing her sister or the circumstances, forwent an entire night of sleep to make sure Oriana would be safe. The one who bypassed her friend, T'Soni, so they could get here in time. She clenched her fists tighter.

"You would have regretted it. Always. It wasn't your fault, what happened here today."

"No. I put it on my father," she answered, acid in her tone. "He gets into everything, poisons it all. I threw away everything he ever gave me when I ran. Except…Niket. Weakness on my part?"

"You can't throw away everything you care about just to be safe."

"Hm." Miranda gave a wry smile. "It's alright, Shepard. My father hurt me, but he didn't break me. As much as he tried to turn me into exactly what he wanted…I'm my own person."

"Damn right you are!"

She turned her head slightly, feeling a real smile etching its way onto her face. "What a pep talk."

"I do try. Is there anyone else your father might try to use?"

"No." She finally turned fully, slightly off-put at how close Shepard was. Her shoulders looked far too comforting. "The only people I'm close to now are with Cerberus." She motioned toward Jacob, and her eyes caught the N7 on Shepard's armor. "Or…you. My father's powerful, but he wouldn't cross the Illusive Man."

Shepard nodded and took a step back.

Miranda let out a shaky breath.

"You still have your sister."

"My father didn't give her to me. I rescued her."

"Damn right you did!"

She laughed, almost desperately, and pushed at Shepard's chest lightly. "Come on," she said, sighing heavily. "We still have to make sure she's safe."

"Damn right we do!"

"Shut up." Miranda reached over and whacked her shoulder, hoping to convey that she wasn't completely upset at her attempt at cheering her up.

Shepard gave a crooked salute.

_I really need to look at her arm when we get back to the Normandy_.

/ / /

Miranda smiled at her sister one last time as the elevator doors snapped shut in front of them. She hated the wetness crawling down her cheeks, but not as much as she thought she would. Oriana was safe. A hand locked onto her left and she glanced down to see Shepard's hand in hers. She gave it a gentle squeeze. _God, what are you doing? You just saw what personal feelings do._ She leaned forward slightly and saw Jacob giving Shepard a strange look. Angling her gaze down, she saw Shepard was gripping his hand as well. "Shepard, what on—"

"WooooaaaaaaAAAH! Living on the e-edge! Have Miranda drive and we'll make it, I sweaaaar—WOOOAAAH LIVING ON THE EEEDGE!" Shepard triumphantly raised both their hands.

Jacob yanked his hand back, laughing. "Been working on that, Commander?"

"Twenty whole minutes."

Miranda didn't tug her hand away after Shepard lowered it.

* * *

**A/N: So. A heads up. The thing that intrigues me the most about Miranda is her background story that's never fully elaborated. Her past can be taken several different ways, and I will definitely be taking a rather dark route. As slapstick and ridiculous as Shepard gets, I did always plan on this having some pretty dark/serious moments, hence the M rating [plus I tend to think in MPAA guidelines, working around films. More than one F word? Rated R!]. I love ridiculousness as much as I love fluff. I'll be sure to post trigger warnings at the beginnings of chapters. Just want you to take care of yourselves, my friends. Again. I will never be able to say thank you enough for everyone favorite-ing, following, and reviewing.**

**PS: Bonus points if you know the movie I reference with "tattle-tits." And extra points if Shepard made you want to go jam some Bon Jovi.**


	10. Chapter 10

Shepard was finding herself _way_ more amusing than she should have. She knew it. In her defense, she hadn't been sleeping well for the past few days. Past fifteen years, really. Excepting the previous two, considering she'd been mostly dead for those. _And I missed my damn thirtieth birthday! What the hell._ She rubbed at her eyes as she, Miranda, and Jacob climbed from the hired taxi. She leaned heavily into the driver's window and pulled up her omni-tool.

"Sixty even, ma'am," the turian said, glancing at his fare meter and pulling up his omni-tool.

Shepard wrinkled her nose. "Sixty?"

The turian was obviously intimidated by the three well-armed soldiers that had just piled out of his car. "Uh…"

"That sounds a little low, doesn't it?" Shepard glanced over to Miranda, who only exchanged a confused glance with Jacob. "I think two-sixty sounds much better." She started typing on her omni-tool. Her eyes flicked up to meet the turian's wide, disbelieving ones. "Y'know, I'll even round it up to five hundred if you never saw us. Five hundred is a nice, even number, don't you think?"

"Saw who, ma'am?"

Shepard smiled and transferred the credits. "You catch on quick. Go buy yourself a drink or something. Uh…after you're off."

"Thank you," he spluttered, staring at his omni-tool display. "Thank you!"

Shepard pounded her fist on the hood. "You're welcome." She made her way past her two squad mates, who were giving her incredulous glances. "What?" She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. Everything felt foreign…almost like she was half-asleep already. It was a small victory to curl her hands into fists. And her right shoulder felt like someone had a vice on it, twisting. She tried to focus on anything else. That stupid thing she was doing earlier…changing the words to the song. That kept her mind off of the pain for long enough. She was stuck after the chorus, though. She thought the line about Miranda driving had been pretty clever. Maybe if she started to work other people in, too. _Va-ka-ri-an will snipe 'em and we'll make it, I sweeeaaar_…She took in a big breath to belt out her new lyrics when Jacob nudged her.

"Hey…maybe you could go see T'Soni now."

She winced, him having bumped her right shoulder, but squinted up toward the office space. Liara would be happy to see her, right? She was wary of meeting old friends now, thanks to Kaiden's violent reaction on Horizon. _It's a good thing Ash isn't around to see this_, his voice echoed in her head.

"Jacob, she needs to get to bed!"

Shepard didn't want to do anything other than curl up on the ground right there and take a nap. Damned if anyone else knew it, though. "I'm perfectly fine!"

Miranda crossed her arms and stared her down. "You're exhausted. You were holding our hands and singing some horrid rendition of an ancient song in the elevator, then you asked our taxi driver to play it on the way back. Not to mention your right side is bothering you."

Shepard grinned. She hadn't exactly objected to holding hands until the elevator doors opened again. "So…I guess you don't want to hear the new line I have about Garrus?"

Miranda's look gave her an answer in the definite negative.

Shepard shoveled her left hand through her hair. "Can't I just go say hi, Shepard, one of your best friends here…not dead anymore…?" She turned without waiting for an answer. "I'm going. I'm doing it." There was a heavy sigh behind her as she continued toward the large flight of steps. She stopped at the bottom and looked up, squinting through sleep-hazy vision. So many stairs. Her hip wasn't feeling the best…

"Shepard?"

She blinked, realizing Jacob and Miranda were halfway up. She steeled herself and started up, fighting to keep her face impassive. _Left right. Left right…left…right. Left right…woaaaaahhh we're halfway theeere…_ She had to pause when she caught up to the other two. She held up a her left hand. "Just…give me a second. I'm…getting used…to uh, the altitude."

Miranda waved Jacob ahead. "Go on. We'll be there in a moment."

Shepard watched his retreating back and nodded as soon as he pulled up to the top of the stairs. "Okay. Let's—"

"Shepard. What hurts?"

"Noth—"

"And remember that you are the _worst_ liar I have ever met."

Shepard paused, rethinking her response. Miranda had a point…and she was the one who had been in charge of putting her back together. Even still…

"Your shoulder, obviously. But also your leg. Knee…ankle…foot…hip—ah. Hip."

She hated feeling like an old woman. "I'm fine."

"Is the pain reminiscent of the injuries you sustained after Mind—"

"Ha." She cut her off with a short, humorless laugh. "Nothing ever hurts like that." Shepard pushed past her and powered up the remaining stairs. Sweat started anew on her back, under the armor. It couldn't be the same things as after Mindoir. Not after the extensive…repairs…by Cerberus. It had to be that stupid colossus on Haestrom, hitting her right side twice in a row. Damn geth. Always messing stuff up. She wasn't in the mood to chat with the asari behind a greeting desk by the time she made it to the top.

"May I ask who—"

"No." Shepard banged at the green circle on the door and it slid open to Liara. Liara's back. With her threatening some man on vid-call.

"…Before I flay you alive. With my _mind_." She finally turned and her eyes widened. "Shepard! Nyxserus, hold my calls."

Shepard smiled as Liara grabbed her in a hug. Her shoulder was screaming at her, but she hugged her back tightly. "Haha, with your mind? And then disconnecting! Didn't know you had it in you, T'Soni!"

"I took a few pointers," she said, pulling away and holding her at arm's length for a moment. "Of course, not everyone can hang up as wonderfully as you did."

"What can I say?" Shepard shrugged her left shoulder. "It's a gift."

Liara's smile faded and she returned to her desk. "Shepard," she breathed. "Goddess, it's good to see you again."

Shepard, a bit unsure as to why they weren't bolting out of the office to go chase down more geth, or get stuck in Prothean bubbles, or rescue science teams from a group of four-eyed, batarian freak-terrorists, eased into the seat in front of the desk. "You too, Liara."

Something was off. Liara was guarded, now. Something deep and smoldering and sinister was behind her brilliantly blue eyes.

/ / /

"Yeah, send the lady with the rocket launcher to hack a damn terminal or three. Makes sense. Because we obviously wouldn't be able to handle an army of mercs or geth coming our way. Oh wait. We can!" Shepard emphasized her point by flinging up her left hand, still staring at the terminal in front of her. It gave the disheartening, automated 'ack' when the sequence remained incomplete. She wasn't focused. She gave an exasperated sigh and moved to the side. "Miranda? Jacob? Little help, please?"

Jacob pulled forward and brought up the hack sequence again. "I'm starting to think maybe we should have made you get some rest, first."

"He's right." Miranda gave her another clinical, doctor-ly look.

"We just have to get this stupid info back to her and then I'll go sleep it off."

"There." Jacob stepped back. "That thing beeping?"

Shepard nodded wearily, gazing down at her omni-tool through blurry vision. "This way." She started forward, fighting her right hip's protests at moving. She stopped and scratched at her head. "Wait…no…maybe this way." She turned to the left.

"Oh, Shepard. For the love of…" Miranda grabbed her arm with the omni-tool display pulled up and leaned closer to inspect it. "_This_ way." She pointed to the right and they continued over to the data point. "It's a small miracle you don't get lost everywhere you go."

"I'm never lost." Shepard synced her omni-tool to the data flow channel and looked over. "I just take the scenic route."

Jacob laughed. "Whatever you say, Shepard. Don't know how wandering around the lower levels of Zakera Ward muttering 'where the hell did we come in?' counts as scenic route, but okay."

"That happened _two_ times."

"Two?" Miranda raised a delicate eyebrow. "You mean it happened again after Jacob and I were there?"

"I'm sorry, I don't remember asking you," Shepard said smoothly, closing her eyes briefly. It felt far too good to do that. She snapped them back open to see Miranda and Jacob giggling.

"Yeah, Miranda. Me and Garrus. She was looking for some shop with weapon mods."

"Did you ever find it?"

Shepard's head jerked back down as her omni beeped. "Oh, look at that. All done," she announced loudly.

"Never did."

"Taylor!"

Jacob raised his hands. "I can't tell a lie. Getting my clues from you, Commander."

"Uh-huh. You're both a riot. Let's go."

/ / /

"Um…okay." Shepard frowned slightly as the office door slid shut behind them. Liara had said she would call her back if she needed anything else. She turned and looked at the glowing green, as if to confirm they really were out of the office. Damn, she was tired. There was no doubt everyone else could see it, too. Walking was like wading through a pool of sand, with a fist of pain twisting firmly at her hip and shoulder. "I guess…" Shepard flung her left arm out lazily, roughly in the direction she hoped the ship was. She took the first step down and bit back a yelp.

"Need help, Commander?" Jacob paused a few steps down and turned, as did Miranda, Shepard hesitating in her own descent.

Shepard looked between them both haplessly for a moment, then over her shoulder at the asari—she couldn't remember her stupid name for the life of her—who happened to be staring. "What do you want?" Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Get back to secretary-ing. Whatever it is you…do." She finally turned back to them and nodded slightly. "Just to the ground," she mumbled.

"Jacob, take her left side," Miranda ordered easily. "And take it slow."

Shepard glanced over to Jacob's furrowed brow and concentrated face as they took the first few steps down. _The great Commander Shepard can't conquer a flight of steps after taking a hit or two by some stupid geth. Yeah. Really great. _She peered down to her feet as they descended more stairs with awkward shuffling. Shepard hated the few sideways glances they were getting from passersby in the courtyard. She hated that Miranda was close by her right side, and always a step ahead, able to see all of it. _Half-crippled Commander Shepard. Really blew her expectations out of the water after you came back, didn't you? _Another slow left-right, her left arm curled tightly in Jacob's right.

Shepard couldn't hide the sigh of relief as they finally cleared the last step. She yanked away from Taylor. "Thanks. I got it from here." She started forward, her right steps a little stiffer than the left, but at least she was moving on her own.

/ / /

Shepard discarded her armor pieces to the floor of her cabin, no drive to actually align them in the proper space in their locker. "Oh, if my CO's from basic could see me now," she muttered with a light chuckle. _Shower or power nap? Shower or power nap…_ She absently raised her left arm. "Oh." She half choked back a cough. "Good God, I smell like death."

Which would make sense. She hadn't had time to change out after training earlier that day. The shuttle bay was equipped with nano-technology, similar to omni-tools, that turned the bay into a simulated training ground. Everything had the appearance, more or less, of tech armor in different forms, but it worked well enough for the physics of biotic and special attacks against the various barriers, shields, and armor they could run into. Real guns were exchanged for simulator guns, but other than that, it felt real. It was their first full-squad training, so Shepard had to flop down at her private message terminal and type up a quick report on how it'd gone.

Grunt threatened to squash Kasumi by sitting on her.

Zaeed told a joke to Garrus that had them both laughing so hard they couldn't shoot straight for two rounds of simulated Collectors and half a round of mercs. The health bars displayed on the omni-tool program for training had gotten dangerously low during their giggling, too.

Jack left ten minutes early in a whirlwind of profanities after Shepard had to step between her and Miranda. Again.

Tali's drone went after the simulator pod instead of the actual simulated enemy, once. That was awkward.

And Jacob shot Mordin by accident after a round that had them all particularly jumpy.

Not half bad. Shepard had expected they'd all kill each other by the end, so…they had that going for them.

The shower was difficult, but not impossible with her right shoulder out of commission for the time being. Washing her hair, however, had been a major victory. After tugging on her undergarments and a pair of cargo pants, she decided the normal Cerberus fatigues shirt wouldn't be worth the trouble of worming into. She went with a black t-shirt that had the logo in the upper right-hand corner. She felt a little less out of a sleep-deprived fog, but not much.

"EDI?"

"Yes, Commander?"

"Is dinner almost done?" Shepard picked up a data pad from the private terminal desk and scrolled down to two particular dossiers. She hadn't realized how hungry she'd gotten. Typing up her riveting report had also made her miss lunch. It wasn't the smartest idea to miss a meal. Or maybe EDI had tried to remind her, but she told her off with a string of colorful words that would have had Jack give a middle finger in approval.

"It is underway."

"Alright." Shepard nodded. If she could sleep off the stupid shoulder thing, she could conceivably get both of them the next day. If their schedules happened to line up with hers. "Here's to hoping," she muttered before clacking it back onto the desk. She closed her eyes and ran her hand diagonal across her face, scrubbing at the scar that was no longer there. Her finger caught on one of the cybernetic scars and she winced. Why was Liara being so distant? She thought for sure…out of everyone…she would—

"My scans indicate you are experiencing pain at the right should—"

"Not you, too!"

"Part of my job is to ensure your safety, Shepard."

"I'm safe! And I thought I fired you earlier."

"Were you to attempt to go on another mission as you are, success rate probability would drop due to lack of physical care and attention."

"Fine," Shepard hissed. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll check it out after dinner."

"You also are in need of sleep."

"Any other helpful tips?" Shepard growled, raising an eyebrow.

"Always wear a seatbelt when driving or riding in a skycar."

"You're fired. Again."

/ / /

"Shit, Gardner. This doesn't look like it'll kill me."

Shepard pulled herself from the elevator, glad she wasn't worried about saving her mess sergeant's ass. She wouldn't be able to defend anyone from much at the moment.

Kelly Chambers nearly bowled into her as she rounded the corner. "Oh! Shepard, I'm sorry, I didn't see you!" She reached out and grabbed her arms to steady her.

Had she really been that knocked off-balance by her small, polite, yeoman?

"Are you alright?" Kelly raised her eyebrows as she took in Shepard's face. "You don't look too well."

"Don't worry. Just came to get some food in me, then it's straight to bed." Shepard offered her a smile, hopefully reassuring. She was mentally pulling herself together, willing her arms and legs to stop acting like jelly.

"Do you have a moment?" Kelly glanced over her shoulder.

"Of course." Shepard waved them back toward the elevator door, where she leaned against it, resting her head on the cool metal. "What's up?"

"It's Jack. She's—"

"Is she messing with you?" Shepard pushed herself off the door. Jack could conceivably tear her to shreds at the moment, but nobody messed with the Normandy yeoman! Who else would remind her to check her messages one to four times a day?

"No, no." Kelly smiled and gently guided Shepard back to leaning against the elevator. "She's found something in relation to her past. She can't seem to focus since she did. She wants to speak with you when you have the chance."

"Why can't you tell me?"

The red-head giggled. "That's what she said, also. I'm here for psychological support, not to be a messenger girl. It will be good for her, learning to trust someone else with information about what happened to her."

Shepard nodded slowly, then grinned. "Well, I'll be damned, Kelly. You found a soft spot."

"She's really not as hateful as it would seem. She's just…" Kelly seemed to think over several words before offering a shrug. "Hurt. I'm sure you could relate, Shepard. You lashed out at the surrendered batarian slavers on Torfan…not because you were a raging lunatic, but because you were hurt. And not just from the injuries you sustained during the fight."

"If I wouldn't have stopped them there, they would have—"

Kelly cut her off with a gentle squeeze to her forearm. "I wasn't judging you, Commander. I don't disagree with what you did completely."

"Just a little?"

"I suppose it's in my job description to say just a little. All titles aside? I can't say I would have behaved differently."

Shepard was about to say more when the elevator opened and she went crashing to the floor. She blinked several, rapid times, up at Mordin.

"Shepard! Unwise to lean against walls that move." He grinned and held out a hand.

"You and EDI are just overflowing with helpful information, aren't you?" Shepard huffed, reaching for his hand with her left. Mordin started pulling when he glanced up, then let go. She slammed back to the floor and issued a groan. "Solus! What the hell!?"

"Operative Lawson." He gave a slight bow. "Would you like to assist?"

Shepard craned her neck to see Miranda standing next to Kelly. She was surprised she hadn't heard the high-heeled boots clicking over. She looked back to Mordin, face twisted in confusion.

He knelt down and put a hand against his mouth, shielding it from the line of sight of her XO. "Sometimes, little push is all that's needed. Rooting for this. Outcomes interesting. Fascinating!"

"Mordin," Miranda said. "I can still hear you."

Kelly giggled, receiving a glare from the three soldiers. "Oh. I um…" She glanced around before motioning over her shoulder. "I should excuse myself. I need to use the facilities." She hurried away, still giggling.

Mordin frowned. "Human hearing exceptional, for way ears are turned. Have underestimated. Must make note of that."

Miranda pushed him aside and offered down her hand. "Since STG seems to have instilled in him a mastery of infiltration, but not subtlety or whispering, I suppose I'll have to do."

"Yes, how dare your talents be wasted on helping a colony rat like myself off the floor?" Shepard reached up, but instantly let go as soon as Miranda started pulling. "Mmmfff…" She closed her eyes and put her left hand over her right shoulder. "Maybe I'll just nap down here. It's not so bad." Before she could protest, Miranda had grabbed her left forearm.

"You're impossible. Come on, I have a couch in my quarters. You can nap there while I have a look at your arm."

Shepard struggled up and sighed, nodding. EDI had been right. Ignoring her body wasn't the way to keep everyone alive.

Miranda offered her a small smile. "It won't be all that bad, Shepard. I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities to curse the medical profession and all we stand for."

Shepard gave another heavy nod and turned slightly. She didn't even have the energy to ask about band aids. Because band aids were the best. She hesitated before stepping into sight of the rest of the crew, squaring her shoulders and blinking, hoping to still look like CO material.

"It's alright, Shepard," Miranda murmured, suddenly close to her side. Her hand squeezed Shepard's briefly, sending a spike of heat through the commander's body. "What was that line about Garrus you made up earlier?" She was close, not letting her words be heard by anyone else. Warm breath tickled Shepard's neck.

Shepard grinned. "You really want to hear it?"

"Not particularly, but you look like a small puppy that was just kicked." Miranda shrugged.

"Ouch." Shepard started forward.

"At least I'm honest, correct?"

"You just love my singing."

"No. No, I don't."

"Admit it. No shame. You love it."

"Remember that bit about being honest?"

"Vakarian will snipe 'em and we'll make it, I sweeeaaaar…"

"And there it is. Impressive."

Shepard stopped, ready to belt out her entire, revised chorus at the entrance to Miranda's office, when there was a light touch at her right shoulder blade. She hesitated and looked over. It felt familiar, somehow.

"Don't you dare," Miranda said, obviously having seen her stunt coming from a mile away.

_Challenge…accepted._


	11. Chapter 11

**Trigger warning: "Adult situation"/abuse near the end, of a sexual nature. Nothing graphic, but it is implied and abstractly described. **

* * *

"I really should come up with new verses for that…" Shepard mused as they stepped into Miranda's office.

Miranda rubbed her hand along her brow. It had come to a low blow to get her to shut up and come in, poking her shoulder, but it had been necessary if the scan were to ever get done. "You are absolutely…the strangest person I've ever met."

"Me too." Shepard frowned slightly. "I blame you."

"Of course." Miranda waved her off and pulled up her omni-tool. "Stay still." It was obvious Shepard's mind was racing, the way she bounced up slightly on the balls of her feet. "Shepard. Stop. Moving."

"Right. Sorry."

Miranda waved the tool over her shoulder and around to the back, then stared at the screen, waiting for the read-out. "There. It looks like you have a proximal humerus fracture."

"Come on, I know my jokes are bad, but do you really need to go around saying—"

"Shepard," Miranda cut her off a little more severely than she'd intended. "This is serious. You broke your shoulder."

She seemed to shrink a little and looked away. "It was that stupid colossus."

"Alright, the stupid colossus broke your shoulder." Miranda crossed her arms. _And then you slept on your desk, and then we had training, and then we nearly crashed a sky car, and then you snapped a man's neck, and then you used your submachine gun for nearly two hours…_ The thoughts mortified her. The injury could have been ten times worse. How did she keep her head clear for the past mission? Or…mostly clear. Singing aside.

"It doesn't hurt as bad as I remember," Shepard mumbled, reaching up to poke at it tenderly.

Miranda grabbed her hand before she could. "Would you stop poking things just for the hell of it?"

"Probably not." Shepard grinned, but it faded quickly. "How long will I be out?"

Miranda knew that would be coming. She bit her lip. "I should look at your hip as well."

"No, that's fine." Shepard shook her head. "Chakwas gave me some anti-flame drug for that and it feels better. She says the muscles seized up or something. Nothing new."

"Anti-inflammatory?"

"You know what I meant! Anyway. Shoulder. How long?"

Miranda's eyes wandered away from Shepard's face and locked on her hand, still holding the commander's. She let go quickly and crossed her arms. There. Safe from contact. "You're lucky. Between Chakwas and modern-day medical technology, three days."

"Three days?!"

"A hundred years ago it would be three months, Shepard."

"We still have that Justicar and assassin to get!"

"The information T'Soni shared with us points to them being on Illium for a while."

Shepard sighed. "Fine."

About damn time she actually listened to any sort of medical advice.

"Don't expect me to be happy about it, though."

"I didn't."

"Oh." Shepard seemed slightly deflated. "Well…good."

"Sit down, would you? You look awful. I'll go grab you something to eat."

"You and Garrus are so good with your pick-up lines." Shepard dragged the seat from in front of the desk next to the other chair at the window.

Odd, how she didn't just sit in the one already there. "As long as you don't move your arm, we should be able to set you up for minimally-invasive bone injections in the morning."

"Chakwas will be so disappointed it's minimal."

Miranda just shook her head and made her way into the mess hall, grabbing two trays.

"Is Shepard alright?" Gardner boomed, hefting two large serving spoon helpings of his jambalaya on each one. "Looked a little under the weather."

"She'll be fine as soon as we get some medi-gel bone injections in her," Miranda assured him.

"Right! Can't keep anyone down when Lawson is on the case!"

"Something like that." She grinned slightly and turned, nearly bumping into Garrus. "Oh. Pardon me."

"You're fine." He held up a hand. "Just a quick question. Do you happen to have contacts on the Citadel?"

Miranda raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"Would you like to be owed a favor from _the_ Garrus Vakarian?"

"Depends on if he gets to the point."

"Right. I need help pinning down the location of a guy named Fade. I hear he helps people disappear."

"I may have heard that name once or twice." Miranda nodded. "I'll look into it for you."

He heaved a relieved sigh and patted her shoulder. "Thanks, Lawson. I owe you one. Shepard was right about you."

"I don't know what she said, but she does say both of our pick-up lines are terrible."

"How dare she? You know, I bet we could pick up anyone we wanted in this galaxy between my dashing good looks and your brain." Garrus acted as if he were polishing his fingers off on his chest piece. "I may even share a line or two with you, if you're nice."

Miranda grinned. "I'll be sure to call you, if ever I need a wingman."

Garrus tilted his head and gave her a grin. "Don't think you'll need one, but deal."

"What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing." Garrus shrugged. "I've got some calibrations to do!" He waved off any further questions and started for the main battery.

Miranda rolled her eyes and continued back into her room. "Shepard?" She asked quietly, unsure of if her slouched figure was asleep.

She turned her head and smiled. "You are a goddess," she said, holding out her left hand. "A wonderful, food-bearing, bossy goddess."

"You know, you almost had some points in your favor, until you added bossy." Miranda handed her a tray and sat in the chair next to her. Shepard's eating was a little awkward, with her using her left hand. At one point, a forkful of rice slipped off and she wound up biting the metal.

As soon as she was done, she pushed the tray onto the floor with a contented sigh, staring out the window. Miranda's tray soon joined hers, and found herself staring at the woman across from her. _Dammit, stop. Stop it. This mission is too important_. "Shepard," she started quietly, hoping not to startle her. "I want to thank you again. Taking the time to help me with my sister…" She shook her head slightly. "I couldn't have reached Oriana in time, without your help."

Shepard's head bobbed up and down slowly. "I'm still sorry about your friend."

"Me too." Miranda laced her fingers together in her lap, staring back out the window. The view was the night city-scape of Nos Astra. Twinkling skyscrapers and zooming, lighted dots through the air. "I'm glad he tried to redeem himself. Whatever good it did. Thank you, for stopping me."

"You didn't let me shoot Alenko back on Horizon, I figured it was fair. Even if I was only planning on shooting him in the ass."

"Your eyes said otherwise."

"My eyes said 'shoot him in the ass'."

Miranda smiled, shaking her head. "You're something else."

"It's part of my charm," Shepard sighed out. Her gaze pulled down to her lap. "You still felt something for him."

Miranda shrugged. "Something, sure. He was…safe. A reminder of a more innocent time, I suppose." Until he'd stabbed that white-hot knife in her back. _"Don't get all holy on me, Miri. You took his money for years." _As if she'd had a choice. She bit her lip, focusing on keeping her breathing even.

Shepard seemed to accept the vague answer. "Did you get everything figured out with the relocation?"

"Yes. Nobody will know where she is and…she has what I always wanted for her to have. A normal life…a family…people who love her. And the freedom to choose her own path."

"And you."

Miranda gave Shepard a side-long glance, but she was staring contentedly out the window. "I suppose."

"You know what I would've given for an older sister at her age?" Shepard turned and grinned. "A kick-ass older sister? A lot. A whole hell of a lot."

"You enlisted in the Alliance at her age."

Shepard nodded stiffly. "And look where that got me," she mumbled. Before Miranda could question her about that, she continued as if she'd never voiced the sentiment. "Are you gonna' talk to her again?"

"I'm…I'm not sure."

"Ah, come oooon."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Well, if you keep pestering me like that, I suppose I'll have no choice. But…I'll deal with it after our mission. I need to stay focused." _After the mission? Since when do I think we'll even survive the bloody thing? We all almost murdered each other in training this morning_.

"Fine," Shepard huffed, turning back to the window. "What'd you talk about?"

"Oh, now wouldn't that be telling?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Did you tell her you're on board the coolest ship that you refuse to paint pink? With the most amazing CO you ever put back together? Hmm?"

"No."

"Of course not."

Miranda allowed a smile to crawl onto her face again as she looked over. "She wants to go into colony development."

Shepard's eyes widened and a different smile lit up her face. Rare. It wasn't a joke-smile, or one when she found herself incredibly amusing. "No kidding?" She asked.

"I'm serious. She even told a joke about it. She's really funny." Miranda propped her arm on the back of her chair. "Something we don't share."

"Maybe you just fractured your prox…proxcipital humor bone."

"Proximal humerus."

"That too," Shepard deadpanned.

Miranda giggled, then met Shepard's eyes. They were sharp and strangely calculating. Shepard was definitely more perceptive than her off-kilter humor made people suspect. She looked away, smile fading from her lips.

"Anyone ever tell you smiling looks good on you?" Shepard asked quietly.

"Hm." Miranda let the edge of her mouth twitch upward for a moment. "Only you." She swallowed hard, glancing sideways. She knew these words were coming. She'd practiced them. And yet…it was so much harder when the woman was there. "Shepard…this mission…it's too important to let personal feelings get in the way."

Shepard turned back to the window and settled further down in the chair. When she spoke again, her words were heavy with oncoming sleep. "One time…I couldn't be more than eight or nine…I flooded our back yard so I could learn to skip rocks."

Miranda's confused look was lost on the woman's profile as she closed her eyes. It was less than a minute before her breath came in and out in a deep, steady rhythm. She got up and went to dig through her things to hopefully find an extra blanket. She didn't have one, so she grabbed her oversized Seattle Sorcerer's sweatshirt and went back to Shepard, gently draping it over her torso.

She suddenly realized she wouldn't quite know what to do with herself if, for whatever reason, Shepard didn't come clomping out of the elevator one day.

If she wasn't there to demand the Normandy be repainted pink, or try to make Miranda call the furry rodent in her cabin Sir Knight McFurball, or force her to watch some terrible vid.

She pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead and sat down at her desk, attempting to focus on her work. She couldn't do that. This. This thing, whatever it was.

Attachment.

Miranda Lawson did not do attachment.

She closed her eyes, trying to shut off the merry-go-round of thoughts.

She couldn't do attachment, she always argued with herself, because there was nothing there. A block of ice where a heart should be. Her father had ensured that.

Hadn't he?

* * *

_Miranda stared blankly out the living room window. The heat was up, yes, but it was cold in the room. Complete magazine material. Pristine, white carpet. Couches that were never sat upon. An expensive glass and oak coffee table that never saw feet or coffee cups or 'misplaced' keys._

_She leaned forward, slim fingers gripping the window sill tightly. Once, she'd wondered what it would be like to be outside, in the snow. Running around, flopping down, getting soaked, laughing with others. Now she just stared. It got in the way. It made her boots muddy and screwed up her hair._

_Something behind her moved. She didn't bother to turn._

_Then, a polite cough. "Miss Lawson?" One of the several butlers._

_ "__What?" Good. Her words were freezing. She wasn't the sniveling, pathetic mess she had been when this had started almost a year ago. Seventeen was too old for tears. And, now, she had someone to look after. Oriana. She could be strong for her. She had to be strong…and brave…to ever have a chance at giving her everything she never had._

_ "__Your father wishes to see you."_

_ "__I'm afraid I missed the part where I care, Darius."_

_She heard his feet shuffle slightly on the carpet. "Miss Lawson…please. Don't make this worse for yourself."_

_She finally spun and breezed past him. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." She made her way out of the living room and started down an oversized hall. Third door on the right._

_ "__About time," her father spat out, not turning from his desk as the door opened. "That useless piece of shit takes his sweet time informing you of when you're needed."_

_She held back any words she wanted to throw at him. It wouldn't end well. She knew that from before. She stood there for almost twenty minutes, perfectly still, before he finally swiveled his chair around. "What do you want?" She asked flatly._

_ "__You know what's expected of you," he answered, pressing the tips of his fingers together. He nodded to the right, toward another door._

_Her heart would have dropped. If she had one. Her chest only felt hollow as she gave him a single, abrupt nod and turned toward the door. Be good for Oriana. That was the only thing that mattered._

_He leapt up and grabbed her arm roughly, his eyes boring into her. "And no walking out early, like I've found you're so fond of doing. I need information, not more goddamn money. Keep that up and you'll be nothing but an expensive whore. I have no use for those."_

_She only blinked at him._

_ "__And always remember," he growled, voice dropping low, "who you belong to."_

_ "__How could I ever forget?" she asked, her own brand of venom saturating her tone._

_His hand tightened painfully around her arm, but he let go suddenly. Good. Bruises weren't usually a turn-on for the stiff-necked bastards that came._

_She turned and continued through the door._

_It was a good thing she looked older than she was. Or perhaps she was kidding herself and these pathetic, carnal assholes didn't care. It was usually a toss-up, but she knew exactly what to say, and how to move, and what to do to make them leave their conscience kicking at a closed door to their higher cognitive processes._

_She'd long since turned off the part of her that cared._

_Business._

_She was engineered for business._

_Sex sold. _

_So sex was business._

_And, if she actually listened to the 'advice' of her abhorrent father, it usually came with information that he needed. All she had to do was lie there afterwards. Pillow-talk. Easy enough. Except then, they usually wanted to kiss her more, or play with her hair, or snuggle, or something equally as stupid. As soon as they moved closer, she would be out of the room. _

_She didn't want any of that._

_Even though she didn't care._

_She couldn't care._

_**And it looks like that's where this worthless piece of shit is going**__, she thought as she sat up, leaning over the edge of the bed to retrieve her clothes. "I really should be leaving now," she said coldly, pulling on the different articles of fabric quickly._

_ "__Aw…so soon?"_

_ "__Let's get something straight," she said, running her hands through her hair. She turned and stared through him. "If I could kill you right now, I would. Your business has been most appreciated." She left the room, consciously not swinging her hips._

_Her father was outside the door. "What was that?" he demanded._

_ "__Not good enough?" Miranda crossed her arms. "Why don't _you_ go fuck him?"_

_ "__Get out of my sight."_

_ "__Gladly."_

_She was on her way up the stairs when one of the maids bumped into her, spilling an armful of sheets. "So, so sorry, Miss Lawson!"_

_Tory. The one maid she…tolerated? No, it seemed a bit too passive. She liked Tory. The maid was around a decade older than Miranda, and she always smiled at her, and didn't ask questions, and had the strangest accent that she decided she liked. Somewhere from the United North American States, that much she knew. "Quite alright," Miranda said, bending down to help her gather the sheets._

_Tory pushed one of the folded sheets deliberately into Miranda's hands. It felt heavy. The maid's wide, green eyes flicked up, her face framed with shoulder-length, blonde hair. "Niket said you'd know."_

_Miranda did know. It was what she'd been waiting for._

_Tory put one of her hands on Miranda's arm. Her fingers were scarred. "He hurt you, but he didn't break you. Be careful, Miranda."_

_Miranda nodded, and before she could think of anything else to do, pitched forward and hugged her briefly. When she pulled back, she realized tears were trickling down her cheeks. She was scared. Too bad. It was happening, now. It was real._

_Tory reached up and wiped them away gently, her lips curved softly upward. "One of these days, you'll remember how to smile." _

* * *

"Miranda? Miran—ah!"

Miranda's eyes fluttered open and her left arm shoved forward. Straight into Shepard's broken shoulder. "Shepard!"

"Yeah," she wheezed. "Yeah, it's okay. Just me and my proxcibital funny bone."

"Proximal humerus." Miranda forced herself to breathe slower, then realized she was holding a fistful of Shepard's shirt. "Proximal humerus," she whispered, staring at her fist. She couldn't let go. Not yet. She had to get a grip. Those nightmares hadn't bothered her in a while. _Ori is safe. Ori is safe…_ She repeated it in her mind several times.

"Miranda?"

She stood up and curled against Shepard, burying her head in the left side of her neck, focusing on the smell of generic soap clinging to her soft skin, the scent of shampoo on her drying hair.

"It's alright," Shepard whispered, bringing her left arm up to hug her.

"Sorry, Shepard, I just…"

"Nightmares?"

"About Ori." Only a partial lie.

"Okay."

And as soon as Shepard uttered that word…that one, stupid word…

Miranda Lawson knew she was attached.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah...I went there. Please don't hate me. It's what always pops up in my mind with her in-game word choices.**


	12. Chapter 12

While Shepard had allowed for shore leave the first day of her three-day, mandatory rest, on the second, she had rented a combat training field in a city just outside of Nos Astra.

The Normandy crew had been introduced to just how good Shepard was at what she did.

There was a reason she was called when a job needed to get done.

Everyone had returned to the ship exhausted that night, but undoubtedly more adept at fighting with…and not against…each other.

Even though almost everyone seemed a little too distracted to completely focus.

Miranda jolted awake at her desk with the subtle feel of the ship moving out of dock, and glanced out the window. Nos Astra was disappearing below them. She frowned and sat forward, searching through her messages for anything from Shepard. There.

_Miranda._

_I told Joker to plot a course for Pragia. Jack needs this. We should be there by tomorrow night, just in time for my proxymotor bone to be all better, and late evening for the planet's cycle. Don't worry. Just a quick in, plant a bomb, get out. Easy enough for the first day back, right? Right._

She sighed and stood, flexing her leg muscles. She was sore. When was the last time she'd been sore from training or a workout? She decided to wander into the mess hall, hoping to stretch out just enough so that she wouldn't be feeling it in the morning.

Jacob leaned over from the back mess table and grinned. "Well hello."

"Hey, Jacob." Miranda paced over and resisted the urge to flop into the seat across from him. She was sure to lower herself slowly into the chair. Composed; always composed.

"Hell of a workout today, wasn't it?" Jacob had several carb bar wrappers littering the table in front of him, as well as a few not yet devoured. He pushed one across. "Nice moves."

Miranda nodded slightly, accepting the bar and peeling it open. After Grunt had muttered something about how it would be neat to crush heads by throwing big rocks, she'd had an idea. A technique she'd seen a few times before. It wasn't the most powerful slam, but it kept an enemy disoriented enough for the young krogan to mow them down with his shotgun. With a little practice, it could soon be lethal.

"So what about that Shepard bad-ass thing?" Jacob laughed and crossed his arms. "If I hadn't seen vids from before, I never would have guessed she had it in her."

Miranda let out a small laugh of her own. "It was truly a sight to behold with your own eyes, wasn't it?"

"Beheld it with my whole self." He rubbed at his arms and winced. "I'm feelin' it. Haven't been this sore in a long time. Since I was in the Alliance, I think."

Miranda sighed and leaned forward on the table, resting her weight on her elbows. "It's unsettling that our training is so easily…surpassed. Particularly with Reapers somewhere on the horizon."

"Yeah, but it _is_ Shepard." Jacob held out his hands, as if motioning to the carb bar wrappers.

"True, but those methods were nothing new. Cerberus could easily be implementing those sorts of exercises. Not only do they boost abilities, they…contribute to the whole of a team." Miranda folded her hands together. She'd even warranted a clap on the back from Tali earlier that day.

Jacob tilted his head to the side. "Huh. First not-positive thing I think I've ever heard you say about Cerberus."

"I can't condone inactivity with such a serious threat looming." Miranda frowned. It was true. It seemed like Cerberus wasn't churning out soldiers as…talented…as they needed to be. Without serious intervention, the Reapers would be tearing them apart. Whenever they came.

The thought alone sent a chill down her spine.

_When_ they came.

"Like those experiments on the Rachni and Thorian creepers a few years back?" Jacob raised an eyebrow. "That was activity. You condone that?"

Miranda's eyes flicked up. "What?"

Jacob shifted slightly in his chair. "You really don't know?"

"I obviously wouldn't have asked 'what' if I knew."

"Right. Sorry." He held up his hands. "Maybe you should take a look at the files. What, the boss man have you doing so much you don't have time to look through the operations of other branches?"

Miranda paused, breath catching in her throat. She was assigned to all the tasks she was because she could handle it. She was competent. The Illusive Man saw that. One of the few people who did. It was why she was so high on the Cerberus food chain.

"Oh shit." Jacob's eyes widened. "He does, doesn't he?"

"No," she snapped. Her eyes level down to the table, scanning the empty wrappers. She reached forward and brushed away a few crumbs. _It makes sense. Think about Overlord. You were so busy with every bloody report and loose end and deep cover op that you never saw it coming. No. That was a mistake. Gavin Archer made a mistake._

"Miranda. I know that face. You're thinking."

"I'm always thinking." _Cerberus can't be held responsible for that. It wasn't them—us. It wasn't us._

Jacob sighed heavily. He knew from experience that if she didn't want to talk, she wouldn't. He'd gotten many conversational doors slammed in his face.

"I'll check into it."

He shrugged. "Don't know if you'll like what you'll find."

_I don't either. _"I'm sure there's an explanation."

"Or excuse."

She bit her lip and looked away. She wasn't going to argue that point. The Illusive Man still hadn't given her any information about Overlord. Another red flag went up every day he refused to acknowledge the project's existence.

But he had been there when nobody else had.

For her and Oriana.

She raked her hands through her hair at the sides. "With everything we…I…" She stopped her stuttering sentence, realizing she had no idea where she had been going with it. "Dammit," she muttered.

"Hey." Jacob offered her a small, comforting smile. "We're fighting for humanity here. With Shepard. That's gotta' count for something, right?"

"Maybe…that's what Cerberus needs. More soldiers like her."

"People like Shepard aren't a dime a dozen."

She issued a strangled grunt and lowered her forehead to the table. Not very composed or elegant. She didn't particularly care at that moment. "I know."

"Hey, speaking of Shepard…have you seen her? She usually comes down to check weapons every morning—mission or not. Didn't see her yesterday or today. I know she was leading training, but…"

Miranda lifted her head slightly, thinking. No, she hadn't. She shook her head slightly. She'd been too relieved that Shepard had graciously not brought up the other night.

"Think she's okay?"

"She's a grown woman with a psychologist and three old friends on board." Miranda waved absently toward the medical bay. "She knows how to take care of herself."

Jacob tilted his head forward. "Miranda Marie."

"No, that's not it." His attempts at guessing her middle name over the years had all been for naught. She didn't have one…not that she'd ever tell him.

He twitched his lips.

"And you already tried that one back on the Lazarus station."

"Dammit. I'm running outta' names here. You gotta' throw me a bone or something."

"Never, Mister Taylor. A woman must keep some of her secrets."

"Feminine mystique strikes again, huh?"

"Always."

Jacob sat forward in his seat and propped his elbows on the table, mirroring Miranda's posture. "Look. What I was trying to say was that maybe…I dunno'. Shepard seems to respond to you."

"I'm sure Chakwas has spoken to her." Miranda wiped at a few more crumbs, sending them scuttling to the edge of the table.

"Maybe you should ask."

The XO heaved a sigh and stood, suddenly remembering why sitting had been such an enticing option. She was tired and sore. Oh well…more walking could remedy that. "Fine. And if she hasn't, which I'm sure she has, _then_ I will go check on her."

"Fine by me." Jacob nodded.

Miranda could see the silver hair at the computer terminal through the glass as she made her way over. The doors sliced open and Chakwas turned.

"Oh, hello dear." She smiled. "Is there something I could help you with?"

"Not me, particularly." Miranda paced to the cabinets and leaned her hip against the counter. "Have you spoken to Shepard recently?"

"Not since she squirmed like a pre-pubescent vorcha child when we gave her that shot yesterday morning." Chakwas issued a light, affectionate giggle. "She'll never tell you this outright, but she absolutely hates getting shots."

Miranda let her mouth quirk upward. The doctor had been affable, even upon their first meeting. The ways her eyes sparkled when talking about Shepard or Joker or the old Normandy somehow pulled the Cerberus operative in.

"Of course, nothing a colorful band aid won't remedy." Chakwas smiled and crossed her legs, lacing her fingers on her lap. "Commander Shepard, hero of the Citadel, charging into fights like a madwoman with a broken shoulder, demanding band aids."

"She is…" Miranda searched for the right word. None seemed quite fitting.

"Something else." Chakwas nodded, as if understanding her struggle to find an acceptable adjective. "Something else, entirely."

"Not in the worst way." The phrase jumped out before she could cage it securely in her mind.

"Not in the best?" Chakwas raised an eyebrow.

"Some days I could stand a little less banter when we're shooting people…but who am I to argue? She gets the job done."

The doctor nodded slowly, looking down to her hands. She frowned slightly and her fingers flexed and relaxed a few, almost unnoticeable times. "She's far more sane than you may realize."

Miranda had witnessed that firsthand. On more than one occasion. Shepard's gaze seemed to cut straight through her. "I've realized," she said quietly. She could still feel the one-armed hug, the way she felt…safe…against her.

Chakwas looked up again and smiled warmly. "I had an inkling."

The doors slid open again and Joker limped forward. "Hey, Doc! Hey…Miranda?" He scratched under the brim of his hat. "I mean, I know it's Miranda, but…you actually leave your XO Dungeoooo…office?"

"If I remember correctly, Mister Moreau," Miranda said, planting her hand on a hip, "we did team up for that ridiculous game. And you drew a Medusa-Garrus monstrosity creature…thing."

"It was Garrus and you know it!" He jabbed a finger in her direction, grinning.

Chakwas laughed and stood, putting a hand lightly on Joker's shoulder. "You know the drill, Joker."

"Copy that." He moved toward the beds slowly as Chakwas took another step toward Miranda.

"You should go speak with her," she whispered.

And there it was.

There were a hundred reasons why she _shouldn't_ go speak with her. The top ten…perhaps top twenty, all included attachment and emotions and the fact that Shepard hadn't asked for an explanation the other night; simply handed her sweatshirt back after Miranda had finally pulled away, dragged the chair back to its normal position, and made her exit quietly.

Miranda nodded. "Alright."

Jacob gave her a smirk on her way toward the elevator. "Should I say it?"

"I will tell you where you can shove it, if you like." Composed. Always so very composed.

/ / /

Miranda stopped at the door leading to Shepard's room. "EDI?"

"Yes, Operative Lawson?"

"What has Shepard been doing?"

"Would you like a specific time frame?"

Miranda sighed and rubbed a small circle at her temple. She was too sleepy to be dealing with this hyper-literal AI. "The past…six hours, I suppose." Starting right after everyone had come back aboard.

"She spent forty-five minutes reciting casualties from her squad on Torfan and lost Normandy SR-1 members. She spent approximately three minutes in the facilitie—"

"_Without_ that part, please."

"Very well. Approximately two hours searching Alliance data banks for quote—Shepard Mindoir possessions—end quote. Approximately ninety minutes playing with Sir Knight McFurball, approximately two hours attempting to assemble the SR-2 ship model, and for the past half hour, has been trying to brush her hair."

"Brush her hair?" Miranda raised an eyebrow.

"Would you like her thoughts on the situation? It is a…colorful arrangement."

"No." Miranda pressed at the green hologram and stepped into the room.

"Aaagh. Shit! Stupid hair brush. We can travel—ugh—FTL, and mind-merge with blue women, but no machine that can brush—ouch! My stupid…mmf. Hair. _Dammit_!"

Miranda bit back a giggle as the door behind her closed. The partially-constructed SR-2 sat on her private terminal desk, with a host of other boxes lined neatly underneath, on the floor. She turned at the sound of plastic clacking off of metal. "Shepard?" she asked, moving toward the open bathroom door.

The commander stood at the sink in her Cerberus fatigues, gripping the edges. Her healing scars were once again burning a little brighter; long slits of glowing embers along her skin, from what Miranda could see on her left side. A now-broken hairbrush adorned the floor in shards of black plastic, and Shepard's hair fell messy and tangled at her right shoulder. "Miranda." She looked away. "Did you need something?"

"You've got both Chakwas and Jacob a bit out of sorts." Miranda tilted her head.

Shepard only gave a light grunt in acknowledgment before pushing past her gently. "They would be a lot out of sorts if they had to try brushing their hair with a broken shoulder."

She watched the commander walk slowly down to the bedroom and sink onto the couch.

"Is this about Pragia?" Her words were muffled, traveling through the glass of the display case.

"It's your ship, Commander. You've proven you're perfectly capable of deciding where to go." Miranda bent down and grabbed the intact brush head. "You've proven…quite a lot, actually," she added, starting for the carpeted area of the cabin. "The crew now knows, without a doubt, that you are as good as everyone says. At least with overseeing a training." She leaned her weight on one leg and took in the slightly huddled shoulders of the woman on the couch. Warm light bathed the room and threw soft shadows across her red-tarnished features.

Shepard looked over. "Didn't think I still had it in me?"

"Quite the opposite. I'd been waiting for some time to actually see why people call you ruthless." Miranda grinned. " 'I'm sorry, I left my box of shits to give back on the ship.' Charming."

"What can I say? I'm a charming lady." Shepard's mouth didn't bend upward in her familiar smile as she glanced away.

"Here." Miranda closed the distance between them and sat on the couch next to her. "Let me help." She held up the brush head.

Shepard buried her face in her hands.

"I could just shave it all off."

Finally, a small, choked laugh escaped Shepard's lips. "Me and Jack could match."

"Don't worry, I have no intention of braiding flowers into it or anything of that sort."

Shepard turned her back to the operative with a resigned sigh.

Miranda started brushing at the end of her hair, gently easing the tangles out. As she worked her way further toward the roots, pulling sections out with her left to brush through them with her right, she could feel her fingers ghosting against Shepard's neck. She wished, for whatever insane reason, she didn't have her gloves on.

She stamped that thought out immediately.

But it came again when she worked delicately around Shepard's ears, careful not to catch the cartilage on the brush bristles. They seemed a shade redder than what was normal.

_You JUST told her this mission is too important! _Her mind screamed as she ran the brush through her tangle-free hair a few times. Needless. She didn't have to do that. "There. Feel better?" She asked quietly. She leaned over and put the brush down on the coffee table. Shepard didn't turn around. "Shepard?" Her right hand, seemingly of its own accord, traveled to her right shoulder blade and rested atop it.

"Sorry I broke my proxymotor humerus."

Miranda laughed and pulled away so she could move to Shepard's front. She sat down and offered her a smile. "Proximal."

"But I got the funny bone name right?"

"Yes."

"Look at that. I'm moving up in the world." The woman offered a small grin. "Careful. Next thing you know, I'm going to be rebuilding myself."

"I don't think calling your proximal bone a proxymotor bone really qualifies you to be rebuilding a person. Let alone yourself."

"Oh. But I think it does."

"Coming from the one who paid six hundred credits for a megaphone today."

Shepard's smile grew and crinkled her eyes.

"You had far too much fun with that."

"There is never too much fun when megaphones and shouting are involved."

"And that is why we can't have nice things." Miranda shook her head, grinning. She found her gaze locked with Shepard's for a moment. She cleared her throat. "We should both probably get to sleep."

Shepard nodded and stood, walking with her to the cabin door. "Right. Gotta' go plant a bomb tomorrow night. Fun times." She winced.

_Of course. Ashley Williams died in the nuclear blast on Virmire._ "You don't have to, Shepard."

"Jack's part of my crew. It's important to her. I told her I'd do what I can."

Miranda issued a small hum and reached out, brushing off imaginary specks from the commander's shoulders. "Good thing I kept them so broad." Before Shepard could answer, she stepped through the door. "Goodnight, Shepard."

"Goodnight."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Jack has a pretty cringe-worthy line directed to Miranda about abuse, later on in the chapter.**

* * *

"I don't even fucking need you down there, Shepard. What the hell makes you think I want more assholes around?" Jack paced an agitated circle in the sub-deck of engineering, scrubbing at the fuzz on her head. Her big, brown eyes flicked over to meet Shepard's.

Shepard sighed heavily. "Well there's you and me, why not add a third? Three is a good number." Shepard could normally handle Jack. On her few trips down to the sub-deck of engineering, she thought she'd been getting somewhere, seeing the more human side of her. Especially with _"So fuck you. And thanks for asking."_ Nicest sentiment she was expecting to get.

"You're weird."

"Yeah." Shepard crossed her arms. "We're going down there with three people, Jack, like it or not. It's your personal…thing, so I'm letting you decide."

"Like you did with the cheerleader."

"Like I did with Miranda. Yes."

"I hear that tiny-tittied thief didn't have to take anyone else."

"Kasumi's idea and…trust me. It wasn't my favorite, or the best idea in hindsight. Taking down a gun-ship with two people was kind of low on my priority list. Somewhere between braiding my eyebrows and learning to swallow swords."

Jack stopped her pacing and her brows pulled down low. "You are _so_ fucking weird."

"You've said that. A few times now."

"Just making sure you know."

"Consider it part of my charm." Shepard waved one hand outward. "Now pick another damn teammate."

"Huh." Jack flopped onto the cot and braced her back against the wall, tilting her head back.

Shepard really wished she could pull a shirt on over the woman's head. If she wasn't afraid Jack would tear a hole in the hull just to space everyone out of spite if she did, she would have. "You don't have to decide right now," she said quietly. "We still have an hour before we're in orbit."

Jack's eyes found hers again and her lips pulled off her teeth in a disconcerting smile. "Cheerleader loves Cerberus so much…she can see what they did to me."

Shepard managed to keep her groan on the inside. She'd been afraid of that. Two emotionally charged, head-strong, biotic women on either side of her. "I'll let her know." She offered a stiff nod before turning toward the stairs.

"Wait." Jack leapt up and grabbed Shepard's arm. "Look, I…oh, fuck. I just…it means…well, uh—"

"You're welcome." Shepard smiled and patted her hand.

Jack swallowed and nodded once. "Good."

/ / /

"What exactly does she expect to find down there?" Miranda leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. "Magical answers to life and the universe?"

Shepard held up her hands, palms out. "If she does, she plans on blowing them to shit. No magical answers for the rest of us."

"This entire thing is ridiculous and a waste of time."

"Not to her," Shepard argued, letting her hands come to rest at her hips. She took a few pacing steps, biting at her lower lip. "Look," she started, rather hesitantly. She stared out the window, trying to organize her thoughts. _Look at what, genius? Brilliant. Walked yourself into another corner trying to explain things you don't understand._ "Uh…" She ran her hands through her hair, right shoulder still a little stiff, but back to almost full mobility. "She deserves a chance to put it behind her. I think…I think if she does, then…who knows? Maybe she could do some good."

"Every single thing in her psych reports say she's self-centered and borderline psychotic and sociopathic."

"I never said I was going to hold hands and run through daisy fields with her." Shepard crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall. "But there's a person in there."

Miranda studied her for a moment before shrugging. "Fine."

"Just…try to be nice?" Shepard added as the door opened. "They royally screwed up her childhood."

"We would never do anything like that." Miranda stiffened, peering over her monitor. "It had to be a mistake."

"Here's to hoping," she muttered. _I think the number of mistakes made are adding up to be a little more than 'mistake' material._ She cast one last glance back at Miranda before stepping out. She could see a flicker of something…doubt, perhaps…cross her features. _She's brilliant. She has to know, too. She has to. Or at least…wonder._

/ / /

Shepard gripped at a fistful of her damp hair as they stepped into a…morgue? She'd been in a few before…saying goodbye to friends before the funeral so she could cry…get it out before she'd talk at the funeral. Her job to make everyone smile in a time when all they wanted to do was break down. That was the Shepard they knew. But these tables…they were too small. Weren't they?

"What? Why the fuck would they need a morgue?"

Shepard's head snapped toward Jack.

"The other…children…" Miranda ran a hand along the edge of one, her face unreadable. "They must have died in great numbers. Even then…" Her eyes flicked up. "They were part of the experiment."

"Bull_shit_. I had the worst of it and I made it out alive."

Shepard opened her mouth to say something when movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. "Really?! Can we go nowhere without people shooting at us?!" She whipped out her pistol and fired off several shots before ducking behind one of the morgue tables.

"Starting to think it's you, Shepard," Jack called. "Who cares? They're dead anyway!" And with that, she jumped up and her biotics flared around a vorcha, pulling him closer.

"Miranda! Warp that bastard!"

"Got it!"

He exploded in a flash of blue and red, sprinkling particles.

Shepard turned her gun toward an approaching vorcha with a flamethrower. Fire spewed forward and she stumbled back, shying from the heat. "Shit! Shit! Overload his pack!"

"Fuck that! I got this!"

Shepard was tossed to the ground on her side as a shockwave thumped past and tossed the hapless alien into the wall with a wet crack. She hauled herself up and dusted at her front. "Well," she breathed before heaving a sigh. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

The windows to their left shattered.

"You're not allowed to ever fucking talk again!"

"She has a point, Shepard."

"I would say fine, but I'm not allowed to—"

"Shut the hell up and shoot!" Miranda snapped.

They made quick work of the final three. Shepard waved Miranda to the door at the end of the room as she stooped to examine a piece of armor. "Blood pack, maybe?" She held it up, toward Jack, and wiped at her face with her free hand.

"Doesn't matter. They're dead. I'll kill them, just like I did everyone else here."

Shepard straightened. "You're not alone now, Jack."

Her steely gaze wavered. "I…I don't…whatever. Let's keep moving. Cheerleader, got that door yet?"

Miranda stood to the side as it slid open and she motioned through the opening. "Yes."

Jack strode through first and as Shepard made it to the doorway, she stopped, reaching over and putting a hand on Miranda's forearm. "What is this?" she whispered.

"I have no idea. No…_bloody_ idea," she answered quietly. "That's probably the worst part. How could I not know of something like this?"

"Hey. Bang on your own time. We've got shit to do." Jack's harsh voice jolted them both.

Miranda set her jaw, holding Shepard's gaze for a moment.

_Yeah…let's get this done before they kill each other. _"We're coming." She nodded Miranda on and cast another glance back, toward the morgue. _Experimenting on dead kids…shiiiiiiit._ She finally started forward again, jogging to catch up.

/ / /

"What the fuck's it look like, Shepard? I'm gonna kill him!"

Shepard ran her hands over her face, wincing as her gloves caught on a scar. She could feel the heat creeping through her neck, up into her skull, across her ears, mind racing for something that would be able to stop it from happening. She hoped the tough-love approach would be okay, seeing as how Jack had shoved her away any time she tried to console her on their way through the nightmarish facility. "Fine!" She waved one hand roughly outward. "You want to do it so bad? Do it!"

"Will…will killing him fix my head?"

"No!" Shepard stepped forward. "No, it won't!"

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?" Jack was dangerously close to crying. Her voice caught slightly and the gun in her hands trembled, still pointed at the man named Aresh's head. "I can't just let it go!"

"Never said you had to." Shepard moved to the side and grabbed her gun, guiding it gently upward. "He's nuts and he's never going to restart this facility. He's stuck in his past, Jack. It's time for you to move on from yours."

Jack regarded her for a long moment. "Tell me I don't have to let it go and then say it's time to move on? What the fuck kind of game are you playing?"

"Move on. Work through it. Bullets solve a whole hell of a lot, but not this." Shepard glanced down at the trembling man. "I would know."

"Fine." Jack pulled away roughly and kicked at Aresh. "Go. Get out of here."

Shepard watched him sprint away, down the hallway. She turned back to Jack and gave her a small nod. "I'm proud of you," she said.

Jack took a step back, her face twisted in confusion. "What? I…okay. Whatev…whatever. Hey, this room was my whole childhood. Let me look around, okay?"

Shepard nodded and turned to Miranda. "Go take a look in that room outside, make sure there's nothing we missed."

Miranda nodded stiffly. "Right."

"You ain't gonna' go with her?" Jack asked, watching Miranda go.

"You don't want anyone to talk to?"

The tattooed biotic mumbled something incoherent.

"Well, if anything, I could always offer stupid remarks to piss you off." Shepard shrugged. "If that'd make you feel better."

"You're—"

"Weird. I know. I've gotten used to it."

* * *

Miranda's footsteps echoed through the empty hall, her eyes stuck to the ground, following the cracked tile. She'd made her way back to the rooms with the chairs. She saw a few filing boxes. Maybe answers waited in them. _It wasn't Cerberus. It wasn't really Cerberus. The man said it on the vid file. The Illusive Man wouldn't have approved of the…but if he got results…no. No._ She yanked the top of a filing box off, seething at the Cerberus logo on the top.

She let it clatter to the ground as she dug through the hard copied files.

_No…no…no…yes. Subject Zero_. She glanced back at the ominous chair and shivered slightly. "Kept her information close at hand." She opened the file folder and leafed through the pages. _What? They told her parents she…but…_ She stopped as something slipped from the back and fluttered to the floor. She bent to pick it up and almost dropped it again as she flipped it over.

A photograph.

A smiling man and smiling woman and a smiling, tiny, scrawny toddler on the woman's lap. Couldn't be more than three.

Nothing referring to names, but obviously, it had to be…those brown eyes were unmistakable.

She swallowed hard and slipped the picture into a pouch at her thigh.

The rest of the pages were full of observations, test results, hypotheses. She threw the folder back into the case and ran her hands through her hair. _This is…this…this isn't happening. This…God. This happened._

"Miranda."

She jumped and turned. Jack was trailing quietly behind Shepard.

"Time to go."

Miranda nodded and they made their way back to the shuttle in silence. The rain beat down as mercilessly as before when they broke into the fresh air and continued up the broken steps toward the waiting shuttle. "Shepard," she whispered. For a moment, she was afraid her words would be lost in the hiss of rain.

Shepard turned as Jack leapt into the shuttle, detonator already in hand.

"I…I found something. I think it was…her family." Miranda pulled the photo from the pocket and held it out, attempting to shield it from the rain with her body.

Shepard's wet hair clung to the sides of her face as she frowned down at the picture. "You should give it to her."

Miranda made to move forward when Shepard caught her arm lightly.

"Just not yet. She's not…ready. She will be."

Another nod and she pushed it back into her pocket. "What the hell were you thinking, bringing me down here?" she suddenly hissed, narrowing her eyes.

"I don't know," Shepard answered simply, looking to the ruined roof. Rainwater trailed down her face, pooling the slightest amount at the exposed, glowing red. Chakwas had to have found something by now, hadn't she? "I really don't." She looked back at Miranda, eyes almost as lost as Jack's had been on the shuttle ride down. "This was…"

"Don't say it. It wasn't. Not really. They broke off. A rogue cell. A mistake." _Not before they'd lied to Jack's parents by telling them she'd died._

Shepard blinked rainwater from her eyelashes and avoided eye contact before waving to the shuttle. "Let's go before she decides to blow the place with everyone here. I wouldn't blame her."

_I don't know if I would, either_. "Don't be ridiculous."

Shepard's gaze told her she could see through the words. She could see her doubt and questions. Miranda was Cerberus' mouthpiece to the commander. How could she ever win her over when things like this kept popping up?

"Let's go."

/ / /

**[SEARCH PARAMETERS]**

_[Cerberus + Operation + Teltin + Subject_Zero {OR} 0]_

**[RESULTS:1. TELTIN FACILITY. SCIENCE_HUMAN BIOTIC RESEARCH DIVISION. NUBIAN EXPANSE_DAKKA SYSTEM_PRAGIA]**

_[Open file]_

**[RESTRICTED ACCESS. ENTER AUTHORIZATION IDENTIFICATION KEY]**

_[Lawson_Miranda. DZ_55871_7YS]_

**[ACCESS DENIED]**

"What?!" Miranda furiously typed in her access code again and was met with the same, automated 'ack' with the access denied message. She sat back, glaring at her screen. This was unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable.

On a thousand different levels.

One hundred thousand different levels.

Perhaps if she tried a different approach.

**[SEARCH PARAMETERS]**

_[Teltin + Facility + File_Share]_

**[RESULTS: 0]**

Miranda frowned. Something didn't feel right.

**[SEARCH PARAMETERS]**

_[Cerberus + Operation + Teltin + Subject + Zero {OR} 0]_

**[RESULTS: 0]**

"What the hell!" Miranda slammed her fists down on the desk. "You worthless piece of—"

The door slid open and a data pad was hurled at her head. She ducked easily and glanced up. She met blazing, brown eyes and tattoos.

"So what'd you think, Cheerleader?" Jack snarled.

"What are you talking about?"

"My fucking home!" The door snapped shut behind Jack as she took several heavy, scraping steps forward. "Place where Cerberus…your fucking go-to team…screwed me up! Teltin! Wasn't it great?"

Miranda stopped, measuring her words. "Jack, listen. The people who were there weren't Cerberus. I assure you that the Illusive Man…as well as I, no matter how much I dislike you, have your best interests at—"

"I could shove your interests down your throat." Jack started pacing, the tight, corded muscles in her arms flexing. "You aren't gonna' admit it, are you?"

"Admit what?" Miranda asked calmly.

"What Cerberus did to me was wrong!"

Admitting that would mean that everything she worked for…everything she knew, after she made it out of the hell of her 'home'…would be nothing. She may as well have been running out of her father's house for the first time again. Scared, worthless, nowhere to turn, and Oriana to worry about. Nothing to give to anyone. She waited a moment too long to answer. "It wasn't—"

"You're _really_ that fucking stupid?" Jack slammed her fist against the wall, obviously upset it didn't leave a dent. "Bullshit!"

"I'll speak to the Illusive Man and—"

"You really think he'll tell you?" Jack let loose a dark, humorless laugh. "You ain't anything to him, Cheerleader. You're brains, and brains can be replaced."

"That's not true!" Miranda was losing her cool. She could feel it in the way her heart rate spiked, the way her hands were beginning to shake.

"Cerberus is just fucking you in a different way than Daddy did."

"That's _enough_!" Miranda jumped up from her seat.

Jack seemed to falter for a moment.

"You're unstable enough as it is, but recruiting you for this mission looks like it may be more trouble than what you're worth," Miranda said, deathly calm. Her biotics flared, and Jack's cackled to life almost instantly after the wordless threat.

"Touch me, and I will smear the walls with you, bitch!" Jack hurled Shepard's chair from its spot toward the operative, who easily sidestepped and directed it into the wall.

"That's enough! Both of you!" And suddenly Shepard was there, gaze boring holes into both of them. "What the hell is this?"

"The cheerleader won't admit that what Cerberus did to me was wrong," Jack growled.

"It wasn't Cerberus. Not really. If you'd let me get a full sentence out earlier, I could have explained that. But clearly, you were a mistake."

"No," Shepard said, her voice hard. "She's not."

Of course, her words sounded as though she was calling Jack a mistake and not her recruitment…fine. She didn't need anyone. Not Jack, not Shepard…it was a mistake to bring Jack on board, regardless. They should have dropped her off on Omega.

She knew the words were nails in her own coffin. There was no way Shepard was going to side with the organization clearly responsible for…the start…of something like Teltin; with the woman who she thought just called someone a mistake.

"Jack, how did you feel when that outlaw colony you ran with was destroyed?"

Miranda flicked her eyes over to Shepard. This was unexpected.

"Fuck you and your—"

"Answer the question," Shepard pressed harshly.

"How the hell do you think I felt? Like shit."

Shepard turned to Miranda. "Miranda, how did you feel when you found out about Project Overlord?"

She bit back every urge to tell the two that it was a mistake. "I…I…"

Jack shifted slightly, no doubt about to shout another expletive, but Shepard's hand shot up in the air, stopping her. Shepard was _not_ amused.

"Terrible," she finally muttered, anchoring her eyes to the ground.

Shepard's voice lost a tiny amount of the edge. "Miranda, Jack was tortured for years. By people working for Cerberus. Jack, everything and everyone Miranda cares about is Cerberus, and that's being destroyed right in front of her."

Miranda finally looked over, meeting Jack's eyes. She was just as stunned by the recent turn of events as Miranda was. Shepard…made sense.

"I'm not asking you two to kiss and make up, but for shit's sake, I will make you both see that the other is a goddamned _person_." Shepard's eyes flicked between the two. "A person who will have your back when we go through the Omega-4 Relay."

Jack let out a hiss through her teeth, her shoulders pulling down slightly. "I think I like it better when you don't make sense, Shepard."

Shepard's gaze shifted and rested on Miranda. "Miranda?" she asked softly.

"I can put aside my differences."

"You're not as different as you might think."

"Okay," Jack announced loudly, starting for the door. "Enough of this feely talk. Chambers does enough of that shit."

"You guys gonna' be okay?" Shepard held out her arm, stopping Jack for a moment.

The biotic glanced back. "Fuck you both." Her words lacked their normal venom.

"I'll take it as a yes," Shepard said, letting her pass.

Miranda shakily leaned against her desk and crossed her arms as the door closed. "It's…it's a good thing you came by when you did."

"Kinda' figured that." Shepard rubbed at the back of her neck.

"I didn't mean she was a mistake," Miranda said. Why was she trying to defend herself? She'd just decided she didn't need anyone. Not Shepard. Especially not Shepard. The one who was worming her way slowly but surely through her emotional walls. "I meant…bringing her on board."

There was a painfully long pause. Shepard absently rubbed at her right shoulder. It was probably sore. She did insist on charging one of those krogan. "Ah, so _my_ mistake." She grinned. "I can live with that. I make those pretty well."

Miranda met her gaze again.

"What did she say to you?" Shepard asked, pulling the chair back to its normal position.

"It doesn't matter," she said bitterly, turning away and gripping the edge of her desk. "Just…I…I need to get back to work." _Back to work for people who may be torturing children, or hooking up their savant, autistic brothers to monstrous machines…_

"I think you deserve a break."

"Shepard, don't be ridiculous."

"I'm going to go talk to Jack to make sure she's alright after what happened down there…and when I get back, we're watching a vid."

"Sh—"

"Prepare yourself…for _Plaguers_."

"That sounds absolutely…"

"Awesome."

"Horrendous." Miranda turned again, taking in the goofy smile plastered across her commander's face. Somehow, it grounded her. Everything seemed to be going to shit…Collectors, Overlord, Teltin, the Illusive Man covering things up…and then Shepard. Standing there, grinning like the damnable, perceptive, brilliant idiot she was.

Constant.

Safe.

"Nooooo. It's totally the best. And when I say best, I mea—"

Miranda moved forward, cutting off her sentence as she hugged her, pressing her face into her shoulder. She wouldn't have many more opportunities to do this…when Shepard found out about her. Who she really was. An ice queen. She curled tighter into Shepard's arms as they wrapped around her. _"Cerberus is just fucking you in a different way than…"_

"It's okay." Shepard's words graciously obscured Jack's as they echoed in her head. "It's okay." They stood like that for several minutes, just as they had a few nights before; Shepard's breathing slowly quieting the demons in Miranda's mind. "It's alright," she whispered again, one hand reaching up to gently stroke her hair. "The vid really isn't that bad."

Miranda laughed into her shoulder before moving one arm to jab her in the side.

Shepard squirmed. "Hahaha—hey. That tickles."

Miranda finally pulled back, but Shepard's hands kept her close.

"Really. Are you alright?"

"If you insist on forcing me to watch whatever atrocity you dug up tonight, I really should finish what I was doing."

Shepard gave her a warm smile. Another rare one, showing a wall of straight, white teeth. "I do insist." They were closer, Shepard's warm breath moving the hair at the sides of her face, tickling her cheeks.

Miranda wanted to close the small gap between them, let her lips meet Shepard's…but no. She put her hand against the woman's chest, stopping herself. She nodded back, toward her computer. "Then let me finish this up." Her voice came out thicker than she'd intended, no doubt broadcasting the only thought that had been crossing her mind. _Not_ work.

"As you wish." Shepard pulled away and gave a deep bow with a flourish. "Speaking of which, there's this other vid I have to show the crew. It's actually a good one."

"Oh God—go, Shepard. Be productive." Miranda pointed at the door.

"Stop rhyming and I mean it!" Shepard said on her way out, raising her left hand. Her right hand shortly followed. "Anybody want a peanut?" She started giggling to herself. "Oh man. I crack myself up."

Miranda eased back into her seat behind her desk, staring at the computer screen again as the door slid closed. She pushed the feeling of Shepard's muscled arms holding her close out of her mind. She had to focus. She wasn't some giddy schoolgirl. She knew the ropes…far better than she ever wanted. But with Shepard…she felt…

_God dammit. Focus. Teltin._

**[RESULTS: 0]**

That wouldn't do.

Miranda Lawson wanted answers.

Miranda Lawson would be getting answers.

She could wait. Even if it wasn't until after they got back from the Omega-4 Relay. She could wait. She wouldn't be made a fool.

She stopped, glancing toward the door again.

She had to quit thinking there would be any coming back.

But…with Shepard, there was a chance.

Wasn't there?

* * *

**A/N: So I guess I may be twisting the game a tiny bit, but really. Miranda is smart and I don't think she would continue blindly trusting an organization after so many 'mistakes'.**

**Again, thank you for sticking with me, all you beautiful or handsome, amazing people!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I found a megaphone in my house yesterday. Best...day...EVER! That is all. Oh, except, thanks for every follow, favorite, review. :)**

* * *

"C'mon. C'mon, c'mon, come _on_!" Shepard crossed behind Miranda's desk and started tugging on her arm.

"Shepard!" She pulled her arm back and raised an eyebrow. "Do you mind?"

"Not even a little. Let's go! _Plaguers_ is waiting!"

"Sit down and wait for five seconds." Miranda pointed to the chair, moving her arm out of the way of Shepard's grip again.

"Oh fine." She circled back around and flopped in the seat.

"How did your talk with—"

"It's been five seconds."

Miranda cast her a glare that didn't seem to deter her in the slightest.

Shepard grinned. "Not bad. Says she still kinda' wants to kill everyone she sees, but you know…kinda' is better than always."

"Can we count on her to do her job?"

Shepard rubbed at her cheek. "I think so. I think…yeah." She finally nodded. "Yeah, she will."

Miranda continued tapping at the haptic interface keys. Fade. Difficult man to pin down. She couldn't figure out if the man her contact knew of was the actual Fade, or if it was a cover for the real one. "That's a relief." Her eyes flicked up to observe Shepard for a brief moment. "Has Chakwas found anything for your scars yet?"

Shepard grunted slightly and gave a noncommittal shrug.

"She's had quite some time. She's a brilliant woman, I don't see why not."

"I've been having her do a little research on the neural degeneration of Jack," Shepard finally said, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Why didn't you say so? I could have been helping."

"You do enough. Chakwas can handle it." Shepard pointed to her face. "Plus, this ups my bad-ass points, too."

"It ups your you-poke-at-things-you-shouldn't points, as well." Miranda grinned and shook her head before propping her elbows on the desk and resting her chin on her fists.

"Ah." Shepard waved her words off. "I already had those."

"Indeed," Miranda said. She hummed slightly as she closed out of her message and stood.

"Yes! _Plaguers_!"

"Wait." Miranda wrung her hands together slightly, stopping Shepard on her way to the door. "Before we do, I have something to say."

Shepard tilted her head. "Uh…okay."

Miranda paced to the window and rested a hand on her hip, staring out at the stars and wisps of blue flicking past. "I…I wanted to apologize. When we started…I wasn't sure you'd be fully up to this task."

"You don't say," Shepard sighed out, pulling up next to her. She rolled her head so she was looking at her and grinned.

"Oh, shut up." Miranda pushed her. "I'm relieved to say I was wrong."

"Me too." Shepard clasped her hands in front of her and straightened. "Even though you were so nice to me when we first really talked. What did you say?" Her face screwed in concentration for an absolute butchering of Miranda's accent. " 'We have a mission. We can either talk about it, or do it.' "

"Okay, one." Miranda held up a finger. "That was a terrible imitation of my accent."

"Can't blame me for trying! It's just so…" Shepard trailed off, lips twitching upward.

"And two…that was a terrible imitation of my accent." Miranda folded her arms and stared down at the white of her uniform covering them. Now that she thought about it…maybe Shepard was right. The hexagon pattern was…maybe not absurd, but…something. "Perhaps if Cerberus had found you or…people like you sooner…well." She heaved a sigh, not wanting to admit what she'd been thinking. "Maybe things like Teltin wouldn't have happened."

"What happened to Needledick being our savior sinning saint?"

"Call him what you like, but he did insist we bring you back. Terrible vid tastes included."

Shepard nodded, squinting out the window. "That's true," she said quietly. She turned and leaned against the wall with her side. "You guys put a lot of credits into me. That whole…bringing me back…and the Normandy." Her eyes traveled upward and searched the ceiling. For what, Miranda was uncertain. "My dads would have shit themselves if someone had told them I'd be who I am now, back then."

"And that," Miranda said quietly.

"Hm?" Shepard raised an eyebrow. "And what?"

"Just…you." Miranda turned and walked a few steps away, hugging her arms closer to her torso. "I mean…look at you. You were just a colony kid, growing up in a simple pre-fab unit…losing even that when batarian slavers attacked your home…" She gave the opposite wall a wry smile. "After everything my father did to make me…_perfect_. Best genes, best education, best training…" Training being a relative term when it came to his business…techniques. "I guess it wasn't enough. You're still the best humanity has to offer."

She heard Shepard shift slightly behind her. "Your genetic tailoring really bothers you a lot, doesn't it?"

"It's everything. Any time I look in a mirror, or use my biotics, or manage to see a pattern others miss…he paid for all of that." She ran her hand lightly across her brow. "_He_ is responsible for my successes. The only things I can take credit for are my mistakes."

"Last time I checked, you brought me back, not him. It's not him out there in the field tearing mercs and Collectors to pieces." Shepard's voice pulled closer, but lowered in volume. "It's you. And it's not him standing in front of me right now."

Miranda turned, again somewhat dumbfounded by how much insight the woman had. It was turning out to be quite the day—Shepard making sense twice within the space of a few hours. She didn't quite realize Shepard had reached out and taken her hands until she glanced down. Damn gloves.

"So I guess…" Shepard's cheeks were flushing, her eyes resting on their hands. "You should probably tell me now if…I'm not allowed to call you beautiful or smart."

Miranda struggled to find her tongue and make it form words. "Oh? Well…perhaps I wouldn't mind…"

Shepard grinned and met her eyes again. "I could always revert back to bossy."

"If I recall correctly, you did refer to my breasts as magnificent once already."

"I was being a translator, if you recall _correctly_." The red on her cheeks deepened.

"Am I to believe the translator had no bias in relaying the message?" Miranda grinned, taking a step closer.

"Yes. I mean no. I mean…wait…what? Uh…" Shepard stopped and grinned. "I'm gonna' stop…digging that hole, now…" Her hand reached up and gently caressed Miranda's cheek.

Miranda tilted her face a fraction toward Shepard's palm, welcoming the contact. So many had demanded their own touch, been entitled to it…the concept that someone had, in a rather round-about way asked for it, was foreign. She reached her now-free hand up to slide her fingers along the scar on Shepard's jaw, mentally damning her gloves again. "Yes," she said quietly, "you're rather good at doing that, sometimes."

The small space between their bodies closed and Shepard rested her forehead against Miranda's. "I'm sure over time…I'll only get worse."

"Oh really?" Miranda asked, heart pounding. Had the room temperature spiked? "And why is that?"

"Because…I'm going to ask my XO if I can kiss her…and then drag her off to watch this really awesomely terrible vid."

The breath moving through Miranda's body stopped. Someone had just asked…_Shepard_ had just asked, outright, if… She pulled the hand Shepard was still holding away and put it at the commander's waist, felt her freed hand rest safely on her back.

"You could always say it's for science, if it makes you feel bett—"

"Oh, shut up." And Miranda leaned her face forward the small distance, capturing Shepard's soft lips with her own. Shepard was a little clumsy—perhaps having something to do with being caught in the middle of a word—but tender…untainted by burning selfishness and greed she'd come to associate with a kiss. She pulled back only slightly, letting Shepard's hand that was at her cheek move to run through her hair.

"And I didn't even have to say I got shot in the ass," Shepard breathed out shakily. They were still close enough that their lips nearly touched as she spoke.

Miranda smiled. "You can't take yourself seriously for more than five minutes, can you?"

"It's a gift."

She finally untangled herself from the woman. "Now, about the second part of that…"

"_Plaguers_!" Shepard gave a jump. "You distracted me! How dare you?"

"Excuse me. Who distracted whom?"

"Come on!" Shepard reached forward and grabbed her hand.

"I'll be there in a moment, okay?" Miranda held back a giggle as she gently slid Shepard's fingers from her glove.

"Oh _fine_." Shepard started for the door.

/ / /

"Okay." Miranda peered around the corner from her door, making sure nobody else was out.

"Finally! Come on!" Shepard waved her over to the forward mess table frantically.

She stepped from behind the wall and wrinkled her nose as Shepard grinned at her sweatpants and sweatshirt. "What? I want to be comfortable while watching…what is it? Plague?"

"_Plaguers_."

"That's not even a real word."

Shepard raised her eyebrows and pointed to the projection of the portable vid player. "Oh. But it's right there."

"You're impossible," she said, taking a seat at the woman's left.

"Absolutely." Shepard smiled and hit play.

A gaudy arrangement of credits against a fake outer space backdrop played.

Miranda gave a light hum. "Monster FX did the makeup. Are there monsters?"

"I'm not telling."

"Wait…is this what you said you were going to show Tali'Zorah?"

"She fell asleep before I could put it in. I'm not entirely sure it was real sleep, though…I think she might have been faking…"

"Unkillable space zombies. Fantastic."

"That's the spirit!" Shepard leaned back in her seat contentedly.

It took an entire minute before Miranda had more to say. "What on earth is she wearing?"

"A vest!"

"A vest? Who wears vests? What terrible color coordination. Beige and royal blue. Who told her that was okay?"

"Probably the costuming department." Shepard choked back a laugh. "It's okay. It's just pretend."

"I should hope so. The way she's blubbering, I don't think anyone could feel sorry for her. She looks rather constipated." Miranda raised an eyebrow. "You really know how to pick them, don't you?"

"Don't worry. It gets better."

"And…what…is…that?"

"A green glowy orb of power."

"Oh yes. Of course. A green glowy orb of power. How didn't I guess that before?"

/ / /

"Yes. Go on the derelict ship and split up. Brilliant." Miranda was not impressed with the soundness of their tactical practices. "Nothing could possibly go wrong." Not to mention the impossibility of their 'breather' masks. A flimsy little plastic piece connected to a flimsy plastic hose that connected to nothing. And she was rather sure this 'derelict ship' was made of concrete.

Shepard only giggled beside her. "Wait for it…wait for it…_there_."

Miranda shook her head.

"Look! They wear high-heeled boots, too!"

"They look like they're made of tin-foil."

"But they value their tin-foil posture."

Miranda cast Shepard a side-long glance. She was slumped easily in the chair, back against the metal support wall, with the chair back at her right side, arm tossed casually over it.

"Mmhm." Shepard held up her left hand. "I know. Terrible for my posture."

Miranda scooted closer, letting their shoulders touch. "At least you're aware." Another five minutes passed. "What is she saying? She's squeaking so much I can't even understand…you could have your rodent speak this part with the amount of high-pitched squealing she's doing. Do you even know what she's trying to say?"

"Uh…good question." Shepard shifted in her seat a little. "I've never been able to figure it out with her crying voice. Something about pirates attacked their ship. I think."

"They should have destroyed those purple outfits."

"But they go so great with their silver boots."

"I don't trust them."

"What?" Shepard turned to her. "Have you seen this before?"

"Haven't had the pleasure."

"Oh…well…" Shepard faced the screen again. "You're no fun."

"I believe I told you that I'm good at judging people and their motives from the start."

"But this is a vid!"

"I can hazard a guess as to the screenwriter's motives." Miranda grinned.

"You…you know what? Shush and watch."

"It's alright, Shepard." She reached over, her hands finally free of the confines of her gloves, and took Shepard's hand. "Not everyone can be perfect."

/ / /

"Sure. Cut off half her head and she can slap it back on as if nothing happened." Miranda raised an eyebrow and glanced to the woman beside her, who giggled again. "And then…wait. Wait, is she…is she _snotting_ on him?"

Green goop slid from one 'unkillable space zombie's' face onto the face of an already-dead crewmate. She was definitely snotting on that man.

Shepard squeezed her hand lightly. "You know, if we got turned into crazy space monsters but you were dead before all the fun started, I would snot on you so you could come back to life, too."

"Pardon me while I attempt to contain my excitement."

"No, no. No containing. Let it all out."

"Huzzah."

"Don't you feel better?"

"Mmhm. So, these guns they're firing…they'll knock an enemy back fifteen feet, but do nothing to the one shooting? Are they based on mass effect technology?"

"Uh…no. This was way before they even discovered the mass relay in Pluto."

"Charon, not Pluto."

"That's what I meant."

Miranda settled back in her seat, leaning against Shepard a little more. "I can't believe I'm still watching this."

/ / /

"So? What'd you think?" Shepard smiled as the credits started rolling another grueling hour full of dreadful acting later.

"That…was…" Miranda buried her forehead in Shepard's shoulder. "Remind me never to let you pick what we watch…_ever_ again."

"So glad you brought back the terrible vid extraordinaire, right?"

Miranda turned to look at the time displayed in the lower left hand corner of the screen. There was not enough time in the galaxy to address the evolution and mutation flaws the creatures had. And then that glowing, green orb… "We both need to get to bed," she muttered before sighing.

"Right. Illium tomorrow. Get the asari and the assassin guy…see if Liara needs anything…and get more fish!"

Miranda raised her head. "Shepard…what happened to your current collection of fish?"

"Uh…weeeellll…I don't really have a current collection of fish."

There was a long pause. "You didn't."

"Mm…I did. I forgot to feed them." Her mouth tilted sideways in a grin. "It's okay. I had a funeral and everything. Sir Knight McFurball and EDI were there. Said our prayers and shipped 'em down the porcelain express. Or…titanium…whatever that toilet seat is. All I know is that it's cold in the middle of the night."

"You're not going to try and write it in your next report, are you?" Miranda asked as she stood.

Shepard only grinned as she powered down the projector.

"Of course." She leaned down and brushed a stray lock of hair from Shepard's forehead, revealing the thinning scar underneath. She pressed her lips against it for a long moment. "Goodnight, Shepard," she murmured against her skin.

"G-goodnight, Miranda."

The operative cast one more look back before entering her room, watching Shepard tote the small projector happily toward the elevator and disappear around the corner.

It wasn't _quite_ time to sleep yet. She still had Fade to track for Garrus.

She sat down at her desk and started going through the files of known ID forgers on the Citadel. It was several minutes before she realized she was grinning. Like an absolute idiot.

Dammit.

What was she doing?

She didn't know how to do…emotions.

This was so far beyond senseless.

But it seemed so perfectly…natural…normal…to be leaning against Shepard, watching that stupid, stupid…_Plaguers_. Laughing together at the ridiculousness of it all.

It had seemed so…right…when she kissed her.

_Stop thinking that way_, her mind hissed. _She could never…not when she finds out_.

Of course. Her past. If she was lucky, they'd all die going through the Omega-4 Relay and she'd never have to tell Shepard any of that.

But the way she'd held her…and asked for permission…

Something told Miranda she might know something already.

Which only complicated things further.

What if she really did feel this…thing…for Shepard…and _she_ didn't come back from the mission?

She sighed heavily.

This emotional entanglement was going to get someone killed.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: So, forewarning, Miranda talks a little about her past somewhere in the early-middle-ish area of this chapter. Kind of nervous for posting this one, I hope you guys like it! Your reviews totally make me smile like a ding-bat and give me warm, pink fuzzies on the inside. And of course, every e-mail about a favorite and follow makes me smile like a dope as well.**

* * *

Garrus glanced over his shoulder. He was elbow-deep in a metal pod, wires spilling out around him. "Lawson. Here—give me a hand, would you? I've only got two, and three would be handy right about now. Ha…handy."

Miranda shrugged and strode forward after tossing the data pad she'd been holding on a crate. "Okay, sure. What do you need me to do?"

"Get these damn things out of my way." He wiggled his arm slightly, moving a bundle of colorful cords. "And maybe pull up a flashlight so I don't blow us all to hell before we get there."

She raised an eyebrow before pulling up a flashlight on her omni-tool and using her opposite hand to hold back the wires. "Yes…I'd rather you didn't."

"Don't think our two new crewmates would be all that impressed, either." He grunted and leaned down, nearly poking his face into the missing panel space. "Have you gotten a chance to talk to them?"

Miranda supplied a thoughtful hum. The past two and a half days, Shepard had been working nearly non-stop to get them on board…apparently pushing people out of windows, and ordering drugged-up volus to 'charge' asari mercenaries in the process. Jack had barely been able to get that second story out to everyone at dinner the night before, with the sheer number of times she'd dissolved into incoherent laughter. "I met them both. I've only really spoken to Thane, though."

"I like them. Tilts the balance a little more toward sane, don't you think?" Garrus chuckled. "Except the grocery list is going to go through the roof. Again."

Miranda sighed. "Yes. I'm rather afraid Shepard may use that excuse for more trinket shopping. She's taken up actually putting together those model ships, did you know that?"

His head flicked up and he blinked. "Uh…whaaat? Nooo. What a…terrible idea."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Who?"

"Goto," he answered quickly. "She said shooting geth and getting shot by geth weren't acceptable hobbies. So Shepard did some soul-searching and decided on model ships."

"And…when was this?"

"Haestrom."

She shook her head slowly as the turian once again returned to the work inside the long, metal tube. "Of course."

"Soooo…speaking of Shepard…" Garrus moved his head slightly toward her, still focused on his wire-splicing.

Miranda grinned and narrowed her eyes. "Yes?"

"Have you…uh, well. Hmph. You know. Maybe thought about…uh…yeah."

"As articulate as that was, Mister Vakarian, I'm so very grieved to say I have no bloody clue what you're attempting to spit out."

He laughed, then nodded, still grinning. "You're alright, Lawson. You're alright. Here, give me the yellow one." He pulled one arm from the hole and held out his hand.

She picked through the bundle and frowned. "There are three yellow ones."

"What?" Garrus jerked his head toward the colorful assortment, focusing on the three Miranda had separated. "Hm. Oops."

"Oops? What does oops mean?" Miranda demanded.

"Pretty sure you know what oops means."

"Is it a big oops, as in we're going to have to evacuate the ship? Or a small oops?"

"Maybe…a smallish medium kind of deal."

Miranda stared at him as he cleared his throat.

"I wouldn't use the ladies' room for another hour or so," he added.

"How the _hell_ did you manage to screw up the restroom wiring while making integration tweaks for a Thanix gun?!"

"Oh, let's not bother with the unimportant life questions." He waved his hand before plunging it back into the space. "I guess I should probably ask you why you came over."

"Right…can I put these down? We won't all die?"

"It'll be fine." He issued another chuckle.

She moved back to the crate where she'd tossed the data pad. "I…think I've tracked down where Fade is hiding. If it's not him, it's certainly someone close to him."

Garrus paused, then pulled both arms from the metal tube. "Let me take a look."

She passed it to him.

"That bastard," he muttered, face darkening. He turned away, still staring at the data pad. "Thanks, Lawson. I owe you one."

"You're welcome." As she went to leave, the door slid open a fraction too early for her approach, and then she and Tali were nearly colliding. "Pardon me." Miranda took a stutter-step back.

"Oh, hello. Nice new…uniform thing," Tali said, tilting her head.

Miranda smiled and ran her hands over the new, black uniform she'd managed to get shipped to Illium. "Thank you. It's much harder to get bloodstains out of white, anyway."

"Tell me about it." Tali nodded quickly. "And then geth insides stain like a bosh'tet, even on purple. I went through _three_ different hoods when I was on the first Normandy." Without missing a beat, she turned to the turian. "Now, Garrus! What are you doing up here? We just had a sudden peak and drop-out of the secondary non-critical water circulation system!"

"Hmmm?" He slowly turned. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Ah…Lawson, any idea what she's talking about? None, right?"

Miranda held up her hands. "I'm not in this."

The intercom overhead clicked to life. "Hey, hey, wonderful Normandy crew!" Joker boomed happily. "So…big news. We get to go see the buggy guys again! Shepard just got off the QEC with the big man, and there was a—no, Shepard! Garrus gave me specific instructions to _not_ let you touch the—"

Shepard's voice was muffled. "I'm the commander!"

"No! Get back. Get back! It's my job to make announcements! I'm announcement and button-pushing guy!"

The three in the main battery exchanged glances. Tali started giggling.

"I just want to say one thing!" Shepard's distant voice protested.

"Don't…there! Stop right there…stay."

"I do what I want!"

"No! Okay, that's it! No intercom for y—" The line went dead.

Garrus' mandibles flicked and he glanced to Miranda. "Well played?"

She started laughing and held up her hand. A high-five was a strange gesture for her, but it seemed appropriate. "Well played," she agreed as he smacked her palm.

Tali held up a finger. "Wait. Buggy guys? What was he talking about?"

Garrus' eyes widened. "Shit," he muttered. "Collectors."

/ / /

It was the very small hours of the morning when Miranda decided a trip mess hall in her tank-top and sweatpants was necessary for a drink of water. She was mildly surprised to hear clinking and sloshing as her door opened. She rounded the corner to see Shepard at a sink full of suds.

The commander looked over and smiled. "Hey."

She cocked her head to the side. "What are you doing?"

"Dishes," she answered, holding up a dripping coffee mug. "Want to join? Tons of fun."

Miranda shrugged and made her way to Shepard's right side. She'd been planning on going to sleep soon, anyway. They hadn't had much time together, after _Plaguers_, with Shepard running around Illium buying more toys and recruiting justicars and assassins.

"Here." Shepard reached across her and grabbed a dish towel. "You can dry," she said, holding it up slightly.

"You do realize we have a dishwasher, right?" Miranda grinned and accepted the cloth, her bare fingers brushing Shepard's.

"I realized it after I filled up the sink," she answered sheepishly.

"Wow." Miranda pulled a serving spoon from the rinse water.

"What can I say? My powers of observation are awe-inspiring."

"They're something, alright."

"I blame you."

"Of course you do." Miranda set the spoon next to a pile of wet silverware. "As long as you don't blame me for your atrocious taste in entertainment, I'm perfectly fine with it."

"You loved _Plaguers_. Admit it."

"As a matter of fact, I didn't." She turned and leaned her hip against the counter after putting down a handful of utensils. She crossed her arms.

Shepard dropped a tray into the rinse water and wiped her hands on her shirt briefly before reaching over and taking Miranda's arms. She grinned as she pulled the operative closer. "But people who watch terrible, dumb vids are so much more interesting than people who only know good ones."

Miranda smiled and wrapped her arms around Shepard's neck. "Interesting. Now there's a word that fits you."

"Well, we can't all be drop-dead gorgeous masterminds." Shepard leaned forward and planted a soft, lingering kiss on her lips.

"Mastermind, hm?" Miranda raised an eyebrow after she pulled back, the ghosting taste of something sweet on her mouth. "That makes me sound somewhat sinister."

"Do you have an evil laugh?" Shepard's hands rested lightly at her sides as she maneuvered to lean back against the counter.

"What?" She giggled. "No."

"Evil…cackle?"

"Still no."

"Evil—"

"Shepard. No. I have no maniacal laugh or cackle or…chortle, or anything else of that sort."

Shepard's eyebrows shot up. "You've never even tried? And…what the hell is a chortle, anyway?"

"It's irrelevant—and no, I've never tried."

"Why not?"

Miranda looked away, one arm sliding down from the commander's neck so her hand rested on her shoulder. "I had no reason." So many years with no reason to laugh…genuinely or otherwise.

Shepard reached up and tilted her head back so they made eye contact again. "Miranda," she started quietly, "what…did your father do to you?"

There it was.

The bombshell.

The off-limits question.

_Great. Well, you knew she'd ask or find out sooner or later. At least now you can get this ridiculous…thing…over with and focus on the mission again. Keep a clear head. No more emotional…absurdities_. Miranda tugged out of Shepard's arms and cleared her throat, grabbing the dishcloth again. "It's nothing pretty."

"I can handle it."

She mentally smacked herself. Of course. The woman had lost her parents at sixteen; had to identify their mangled bodies in some make-shift Alliance morgue set up in the colony's ruins. She busied herself with drying off a tray, aware of Shepard's patient gaze resting on her.

"Miranda?"

"Okay," she said finally, setting the tray aside and pulling out a cup. "Well, there was always the schooling, and the biotics training. Whatever I did was never enough. It was always something. My form was off, or I didn't score high enough on early space-frontier history tests. Anyway, when I got older…when I…matured, he had me begin studying business."

Shepard nodded slowly. It was obvious she was attempting to connect pieces.

"And what's business without secrets?" Miranda issued a short, humorless, icy laugh. "I was his way to figuring out those secrets." She saw Shepard stiffen out of the corner of her eye. She put aside the dry cup and roughly grabbed another tray. "The people he was in competition with were incredibly moronic. He had a false account set up for…illegal, pleasurable transactions. I would go in, do my job, and if I did it well, oftentimes they would be spilling company secrets as absolutely banal pillow-talk." She clattered the tray onto the counter, her hands shaking. She balled them into fists and stared at them.

Shepard ran a hand over her face, her eyes shiny with…were those tears? "Did your father…did he ever—"

Miranda could at least spare her from speaking the thought out loud. "Once. To remind me 'who I belonged to.'"

They were tears. Two blinked down Shepard's thinly red-torn features. "God…Miranda, I…"

"I _don't_ belong to him," she hissed to her quaking hands. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, calming her thoughts. "So there you have it," she finally breathed out, leaning wearily against the counter.

Miranda Lawson.

The Ice Queen.

The expensive whore.

And then suddenly, Shepard was there, gathering up Miranda's hands, turning her so they were face-to-face yet again. Miranda refused to meet her eyes, and instead, stared at the strong, calloused fingers closed tenderly over hers.

"If it's okay with you…" Shepard whispered, squeezing her hands lightly, "could I hug you?"

Miranda nodded and was instantly enveloped in the woman's arms again, one hand stroking her hair. She was set on not crying. Miranda Lawson did _not_ cry, the situation with Oriana excluded. That is, until Shepard had to go and open her mouth.

"You're amazing," she murmured into her hair. "And beautiful, and talented, and…God, Miranda. So damn strong. That won't ever change."

Miranda Lawson was crying. She struggled to find words, and when she did, they were watery, muffled from being spoken against Shepard's neck and shoulder. "You're not…you don't…"

"I'm not going anywhere." The commander's arms tightened around her. "Unless you want me to."

She shook her head as best she could.

"Then I'll stay." Shepard shifted and kissed her temple. "I'll stay."

/ / /

Shepard was fiddling with her breather helmet, attempting to make sure the live feed camera would be working. She smacked the side and slipped it on her head, then gave it a shake. "Can you hear me?"

Miranda gave her a thumbs up, then turned to Garrus and Grunt. They were all in the shuttle bay, the three in front of her readying to board the Collector ship. "Alright, you two test your audio."

"This is Vakarian, dashing Prince of the Normandy. Bachelor for all those listening who are interested." He shifted his weight and tilted his helmeted head up. "I enjoy long walks on Palaven's moon and shooting geth."

"Goto was correct. Not an acceptable hobby," Miranda said, shaking her head.

Shepard held up a hand. "I bet Tali thinks it is!"

Grunt shrugged. "I like shooting things."

"See? Grunt gets it."

"Good, all three audio links are working." Miranda pulled up her omni-tool. "Joker?"

His face flickered up on vid-call. "Vakarian and Grunt's vid links are operational. I think Shepard mighta' turned hers off."

Shepard grinned under her helmet. "Oops."

Miranda rolled her eyes and stepped over, grabbing her helmet and pulling it down slightly, re-adjusting the small switches at the back. "I've heard that word far too much in the past twelve hours."

"Oh, Lawson." Garrus put a hand to his chest. "Now I'm hurt."

"And it's up!" Joker announced. "All three feeds are functional and glamorous on the bridge."

Miranda kept her hands on the side of Shepard's helmet for a few extra seconds. "Be careful," she said, before glancing over toward Garrus and Grunt. "And behave."

"I _always_ behave!" Shepard announced, putting her hands on her hips.

"That's right. That's the Shepard-Vakarian motto. Chivalry and good behavior."

Miranda laughed, letting go of Shepard. "Okay. Sure. Grunt's in charge."

"Heh heh." He rolled his shoulders. "Let's tear them to pieces!"

"Aye-aye, Commander Grunt," Shepard said, turning to the shuttle. "C'mon, Garrus! Time to kick some Collector ass!"

Miranda shook her head on the way back to the elevator, their words still in her ear.

"Do they splatter, Shepard?" Garrus asked.

"No…it's a little disappointing, actually."

"Huh," Grunt sounded off. "Too bad."

"I know! The least they could do is put on a show."

Miranda turned after she stepped into the elevator to see Shepard hanging out the shuttle door, giving a wave. She gave a bemused grin and raised her hand, wiggling her fingers slightly.

Garrus popped up at her side and waved as well. "Try not to miss me too much, Lawson."

"Mmhm. I'll try, Mister Vakarian. Your talks about long walks on the Palaven moon really had me swooning. Whatever would I do without you?"

"Hey!" Shepard turned and shoved him back in the shuttle, following him. "No fair!"

Miranda giggled as the elevator door shut and the light overhead signaled that the shuttle bay was sealed and being opened to vacuum.

"Well," Shepard continued, "I like long walks on Palaven's moon, too!"

"You've never been to Palaven," Miranda and Garrus chorused.

"Are you swooning?" Her grin was apparent, even through the comm line.

"_I'm_ swooning, Commander," Joker interrupted.

"Dammit. That's it, Garrus. We're getting me some blue face paint."

Miranda frowned. "What?"

"Sorry," Shepard shot back quickly. "Privileged Shepard-Vakarian intel."

"I think red is a good color, Shepard," Grunt said. "Those scars make you look tough. Like a Battlemaster."

"Oh, and now I'm swooning."

Miranda rolled her eyes and put her hand to her forehead as the elevator doors opened at the CIC. She nodded to Kelly before continuing to the bridge. "There's an awful lot of swooning going on," she noted.

"We're such a charming bunch," Garrus said wistfully.

"Speaking of charming…do you know what happened to my megaphone?"

"How does charming equate to a megaphone?"

"Answer the question!"

"Can't say that I do."

"Oooh! You're lying! You're totally lying! You blue-striped bastard!"

"No idea what you're talking about."

"Heh heh heh."

"Grunt, were you in on this?!"

"Uh…no…"

"Mutiny!"

Miranda eased into the seat at Joker's right, pulling up the vid feeds in front of her so he could go back to the ship controls. She had a pretty good idea of where Grunt had found said megaphone, and then when Garrus had the idea of spacing it, she may or may not have helped with a speedy shuttle ride into Illium's orbit while Shepard was off recruiting Thane. "I do believe it's beside the point," she said.

Shepard paced in the shuttle space. "I can't believe it. The three prettiest people on the Normandy are mutineering against me!"

"Mutineering isn't a word, Shepard," Miranda said lightly.

"Neither is _Plaguers_, except it totally is."

"That made no sense."

"_You_ made no sense."

"Oh." Garrus could be seen crossing his arms and nodding from Shepard's and Grunt's helmet feeds. "Yeah, that was a good one. Good comeback."

"I try." Shepard flopped down on a seat. "So, Miranda, what's the plan? Once we get on this derelict ship, we split up, right?"

"God, Shepard. _No_."

"Soooo what I got from that is 'that's the best plan ever.'"

"Heh heh. And then we make sure our comm links cut out."

"Yes!" Shepard nearly jumped from her seat. "Grunt knows what I'm saying!"

Miranda buried her face in her hands, then separated her fingers to look over at Joker. "Whose idea was it to let the three of them go out together?"

He grinned. "When she said three prettiest people, I'm assuming she meant Vakarian, Grunt, and me, right?"

"Children," she sighed out in mock exasperation. "I'm surrounded by big, lethal, gun-wielding children."

"And you love it!" Shepard said.

She paused, looking at the vid feeds. The three had already dissolved into arguing about who was getting spaced first because of the megaphone incident.

Joker pressed a button and looked over. "Well?" He asked, his voice not on the comm line. He must have switched the bridge link to manual.

"Well what?" She asked, glancing over to make eye contact.

He shrugged and nodded toward the three screens. "Shepard's kind of all sorts of crazy about you. But I'm pretty sure you know that by now."

She nodded slightly.

"C'moooon." He lifted his hat by the brim to scratch at his forehead. "You called me by my nickname earlier. We're practically Girl Scout secret buddies now."

"Secret buddies?"

"Whisper pals?"

"Because that's so much better."

"Just shoot straight with me here, for a minute," he said, shifting in his chair. "'Cuz Shepard's my friend."

Miranda leaned back and crossed her legs, resting her linked fingers on her lap. "It's…" She sighed and her eyebrows arched up and together. "It's crazy, isn't it?"

"Weelllll…" He smiled. "Shepard's not exactly the least crazy type, is she?"

"She's stubborn and has horrific taste in entertainment and…is insufferably decent, with a notoriously incongruous sense of humor."

"I'll pretend I know that big word."

Miranda's gaze pulled back to the screens and she found herself smiling.

"And that! You smile more!" Joker stuck his arms out. "And you laugh now! You can't tell me it's nothing. 'Cuz I totally call bullshit on that."

"It's not nothing…" Miranda faltered and brought a hand up to rub at her temple, watching the three squad mates stand and bunch at the shuttle door. Shepard nudged Grunt as they pulled out their shotguns. It had become more than she'd expected. So much more. It was terrifying, really. Here she was, watching them about to climb onto a Collector ship. She could conceivably watch the three of them gunned down right in front of her. A few months before, her only thought would have been in the lost credits and wondering how humanity would fare in a Shepard-less galaxy with Reapers on the horizon. But now…she knew she would feel an ache, a hollowness, if she watched those vital signs flatline. The woman wasn't just Commander, now. She was…a whole hell of a lot. "It's…" She turned back to Joker. "It's kind of…everything…I suppose. In a way?"

Joker smiled. "Good."

Miranda let out a long breath and tilted her head thoughtfully. "Thanks…for that."

He shrugged again, finger hovering over the manual/open link button. "That's what whisper pals are for."

She rolled her eyes as he opened the link again.

"Okay!" Shepard called cheerfully. "We made it! Time to split up!"

"Shepard, if you do that, I will personally come over, find you, and throttle you myself," Miranda said nonchalantly, tapping at the vital sign HUDs on the individual camera feeds and pulling them above their respective video squares.

"She looks serious," Joker said. "I wouldn't push it."

"Oh, fine. Take the fun out of everything, you two. EDI? Which way?"

/ / /

Even Shepard's mood had sobered as they made their way through the eerily quiet, insect-like ship.

Miranda didn't like this. Something felt…off. Her gut instincts were never wrong. She signaled for Joker to shut off their open link for a moment. Distress signal…small team…this seemed familiar.

He did, then looked at her expectantly. "What's up?"

"EDI," she said, "use your secondary systems to begin scanning the turian distress signal the Illusive Man…said he intercepted." It was familiar. She'd been in charge of something resembling this before. A…trap. _Unwise to attempt to use my ideas against me_.

"Acknowledged, Operative Lawson."

Joker nodded. "Something smells funny about this to you, too, huh?"

She narrowed her eyes at the screens as they pulled closer to a form lying on something of a test table…pod…contraption. She pressed the comm at her ear. "One of you, there's a control tower to the left. Sync your omni-tool and send the data to EDI." She turned back to Joker, releasing the manual connection. "There aren't any bodies," she said. "Except the human bodies that were disposed. There should be dead Collectors."

Joker's face darkened. "Should we pull them out of there?"

Miranda bit absently at her lower lip. "I…I'm not sure."

"The Collecters are Prothean?!" Shepard's surprise jolted them both from the back and forth she and EDI had been having. "What the shit…" Her helmet cam leaned closer to examine the hardened, almost leather-like skin of the dead Collector.

"Shepard, what are you doing!?" Joker exclaimed. He waved his hand frantically and pushed the open comm link button. "Shepard, what are you doing!? You should know better than to lean down and look at things like that!"

"Oh, yeah!" She jumped back. "EDI, are they still…are they still in there? You know…" She tapped at her helmet. "Up here?"

"No. My scans show signs of extreme alteration. Three fewer chromosomes. Reduced heterochromatin structure. Elimination of superfluous 'junk' sequences."

"So we shoot 'em." Shepard nodded once. "Got it."

Grunt looked between Garrus and Shepard. "If we can find them. Where are they? Hiding like unworthy enemies?"

Garrus shifted, his cam swinging from the pod to Grunt and back again. "I don't like it."

"Yeah," Joker said, adjusting his hat, "we don't either."

"So we'll stay sharp. We have to find out what happened to those colonists from Horizon. Let's keep moving." Shepard waved them on, but stopped at a pile of weapons on the ground. "Ooohhh…and what do we have here?" She hefted up a new shotgun. "Oh _hell_ yes! Okay. _Now_ let's keep moving. EDI? Directions?"

/ / /

Miranda's jaw dropped as the three entered an enormous cavern, walls lined with the pods they'd been seeing.

"Ho-ly shit," Shepard muttered, her cam circling up and around. "You guys are getting this, right?"

"Spirits. They could take every human in the Terminus Systems and not have enough for all these."

Miranda ran her hands through her hair. "They're going to hit Earth," she nearly whispered.

"Not if I have a say," Shepard said harshly. "I think I see the terminal we've been looking for."

"Oh joy," Garrus muttered. "Another button."

"But I love buttons." Shepard pushed his arm and pulled up to the console.

"Shepard, wait." Miranda wrung her hands together, glancing at Joker. "Just…there aren't any bodies. Something…doesn't feel right."

Her voice softened. "We'll be alright, Miranda. Anyone ever tell you that you worry too much?"

"Only you, and that's hardly consoling."

"What could possibly go wrong?" Shepard's hand reached forward and pressed the button. The three cams focused on the green for a moment as the data started uploading, and then Shepard spread her hands. "See? Nothing to worry about."

EDI's blue display flashed red. "Alert." The cockpit jolted, nearly sending Joker and Miranda hurtling into the dash displays.

"Shit!" Joker exclaimed. The screens in front of him flickered into some bug-like creature in red, and the camera links shut off. "Shit, shit, shiiiiiit!"

"Sh-Shepard?" Miranda stared blankly at where the displays should have been. "Shepard! Garrus! Grunt! Come on, dammit!" She slammed her fist on the console.

"One moment, please," EDI informed them, far too AI-like. "We have experienced a power surge. I managed to divert the overload to non-critical systems. There. The lines should be back up in three…two…one."

The glowing panels flickered back to life and Miranda heaved a sigh, nearly slumping forward.

"…s? Wh…ppened? Gu…s? Guys? Still there?" Shepard was slapping at her helmet. "What happened?"

"Shepard," Miranda breathed. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah…yeah we're good. So, I may have spoken just a…_tad_ too soon, huh?"

"Operative Lawson, I have completed the scan of the turian distress signal you told me to analyze. It is fake."

Garrus shook his head. "This is why we can't have nice things."

"Needledick," Shepard muttered. "What a piece of crap."

Miranda clenched her fists. "Why would…why would he do that?!"

"Shepard," EDI continued, "the Collector ship is powering on. I am detecting movement toward your area."

The three helmet cams shuddered and the walls started moving. Garrus' cam suddenly jolted and was looking up.

"Ah! Ah, we're moving!" Shepard called, her arms flailing out in front of her. "Oh…oh we're _flying_. Just…stupendous."

"I am…having trouble maintaining our connection," EDI said. "There is something…someone else in our system."

"What?!" Joker looked over to the blue hologram, horrified. "Get it out, get it out, getitout!"

"I am trying, Mister Moreau. I need more time."

"Hostiles incoming!" Shepard's cam was watching another hovering platform bee-lining for them. "Come on, Garrus, you've had your beauty rest!"

Grunt lumbered into view above Garrus' cam and helped him up. "Heh heh. Good! I'm ready!"

"Distress signal he says," Shepard snorted ironically. "Turians, he says. Derelict Collector ship, he says. Oh sure, why the hell not? What could possibly go wrong? Lots of things! Like…I dunno'…THE SHIP POWERNG ON!"

"Er…Vakarian?" Grunt raised his shotgun, the second platform close enough to make out the forms of Collectors. "She talking to herself?"

"Eh. It happens."

/ / /

"This is insane!" Miranda was pacing in the bridge, eyes still glued to the helmet cameras, smeared with husk guts. "How does…how does that Harbinger even…?" She threw her hands up. "EDI, how much further?"

"Hahahaaaa!" Grunt's deep voice sounded. "Big enemies!"

"A praetorian!" Miranda exclaimed, gripping the back of the seat she'd been sitting in before. "Watch the beam, Grunt!"

"This is _great_!" He continued.

"Grunt! Get that incendiary mod on now!" Shepard called. "It's gonna' pull up a barrier soon. Garrus, when it does, blast it with a concussive—"

A particle beam blasted into view, lighting up her camera feed. Shepard's barrier readings plummeted.

"Shepard, Spirits damn you!" Garrus hurled himself against her and they went tumbling behind a barricade. "You okay?"

Shepard moaned something and her hands covered her camera for a moment. Her in-suit medi-gel deployed and her barrier finally pulled back up. "Some days, I really hate my life," she groaned, pulling up her submachine gun. "New plan. Take down the Prothean-Collector-whatever-the-hell-they-are guys first, _then_ we blow up the big dude."

"I…am…KROGAN!"

"He's got the idea." Shepard hopped up into a crouch.

/ / /

"Shepard! It's down! Fire now!" Garrus shouted.

Miranda was sure her knuckles were turning white from gripping her seat. The beam from the praetorian was skidding sharply toward Shepard as three rockets thumped out in quick succession.

The camera feeds went dead.

"EDI! What the hell?!" Miranda whirled to face the AI hologram.

"I am sorry, Operative Lawson. I am currently tasked to capacity. I have to keep the Collector ship at bay for them to have time to get back to the Normandy. However, I am still monitoring their vital signs. They are alive."

Miranda pressed a fist to her forehead, watching desperation stretch across Joker's features as well. There was nothing they could do. The team was in the dark, with only EDI to get them out. Her voice was shaky. "Inf…inform us if that changes."

"Acknowledged."

"Hurry up and wait, huh?" Joker stared blankly at his ship controls.

"Dammit! We should have sent backup," Miranda tapped her fist to her chin. She so desperately wanted to hit someone.

"They'll be okay. It'll be good. It's Shepard," Joker babbled. "Always turns out alright. And then she makes a joke and everything's better."

The ship gave another shudder and they both slowly turned to look out the window. The giant, spiked, metal rod wrapping around the long rock-ship form started turning.

"Oh shit," Joker mumbled, his shoulders drooping. "Or there's that. EDI, tell them to hurry!"

"They are coming as quickly as they can."

"Have the ship prepped for FTL jump as soon as that bay door closes," Miranda said, slapping the back of Joker's seat. She turned and started for the CIC.

"Got it!"

She broke into a run and skidded around the galaxy map fixture to sling herself up the steps. Graceless, but she didn't have time for grace, or composure, at the moment. "EDI! Status report!"

"They are approaching the shuttle…Grunt's vital signs have dropped to near-critical levels."

Her stomach twisted as she brought up the haptic interface to scroll along the map, mind racing. If they had a wounded krogan, would Tuchanka or the Citadel be the best place? Her fingers flicked between the two systems. "The Citadel is our destination," she finally decided. It was iffy if Tuchanka even had doctors.

"Shepard and Vakarian barrier and shields are down to fifty percent."

_Get out of there_, she mentally urged.

"Grunt's vitals are back to operating levels and they are at the shuttle."

"Can you establish a link?"

"One moment."

She bounded back down the steps and ran for the bridge again, heels clacking hard against the metal.

"Connection established."

A grainy image flickered on where the helmet cam feeds had been. Garrus glanced toward the screen and offered an exhausted wave. Shepard was sprawled on the floor next to Grunt. Their helmets were in a pile, and Shepard's hair stuck to the sides of her face with sweat.

"We're…coming," Garrus panted, leaning heavily against the wall. "I don't…like fighting…through…Collector ships…I decided."

"Collector vessel power at eighty percent," EDI chirped.

"You don't have to sound so happy about it!" Joker snapped.

"That…was a good fight!" Grunt raised a fist from his position on the floor.

Shepard only nodded in response, breath pulling in and out in ragged bursts.

"Collector vessel power at ninety percent."

Joker glanced nervously out the window.

Garrus' eyes darted to the floor, then back to the shuttle camera. "Shit," he muttered. "Hey, if this is where you have to…well, it's been—"

"No," Miranda snapped. "We're not leaving anyone behind."

"They better hurry, then," Joker said.

Miranda glared down at him. "You said, and I quote, that you are the best damn pilot, _period_. Prove it, Moreau!"

"Collector vessel power at ninety-eight percent."

Joker straightened and pulled his hat down tighter. "Aye-aye, ma'am! Brace for evasive maneuvers!"

"There's the pilot everyone talks about," Miranda said coolly, bending her knees, ready for the floor to buck. "EDI, shuttle ETA?"

"Twenty seconds."

"Lawson…" Garrus sounded torn between hope and acceptance of the inevitable.

The ship veered and Miranda gripped the back of Joker's seat to keep from tumbling into a graceless heap. "You're almost here, Garrus," she said, staring straight ahead. "You're coming back. All of you."

/ / /

Miranda shot into the shuttle bay as soon as it was re-pressurized.

Garrus was the first out of the door. "Lawson." He still seemed a bit shaken up. "Hell of a job."

"Everyone okay?" She watched Grunt climb from the shuttle and glance back.

"Shepard?" he asked.

"I'll be there in a minute. Just gotta' get my heart off the floor. Pretty sure it dropped out my ass," was Shepard's incredibly classy reply.

"Thanks," Garrus said, patting Miranda's shoulder before starting toward the elevator. "I think I need a drink. You and Shepard can feel free to join."

Miranda made her way over to the shuttle and peered in.

Shepard raised her head. "Hell of a job," she breathed out before letting her head fall back down to the hard floor with a thunk.

Miranda hoisted herself into the shuttle and held out a hand. "Come on. You've had your beauty rest, Commander." She grinned.

Shepard laughed and took her hand, let her help her up.

Miranda grabbed her in a hug as soon as she was standing, not caring about the muck getting onto her uniform, or Shepard's sweat getting in her own hair. "I'll bring up the QEC," she whispered shakily. She felt Shepard's hands shifting around behind her, then the clink of her gloves hitting the floor.

"It's okay," she said quietly, pulling back and cupping Miranda's face in her hands. "I'm alright. We made it. In a little bit of a hot mess, but we're in one piece. I'm here."

But it had been close. Miranda reached up and pushed damp hair from Shepard's forehead. "Emphasis on the hot mess," she offered wryly.

"Don't know if there's any other state of existence for me." Shepard grinned crookedly.

That damn grin.

As if they hadn't just witnessed a piece of what they would be up against when they went through the Omega-4 Relay.

She took Shepard's hands from her face and held them in her own, examining the adrenaline-flushed skin. "I…was worried," she admitted.

"That makes four of us."

Miranda squeezed her hands and looked up to meet her gaze. "Dammit, Shepard, don't you get it? You were there for what just happened. This is…this is no time for emotional entanglement."

"Oof. That sounds messy." Shepard winced a little. "And painful."

"You and I know more about the Collectors than anyone. We know how…" her words hitched and she fought back the anxious waver that was fighting for dominance in her voice. "We know how unlikely it is that we're going to come back at all."

Shepard was still, her eyes searching Miranda's face. "Do you want to do this?" she asked simply.

And all her logic, all her back-and-forth, all her reasons…they all went out the airlock. Miranda swallowed, tugging on Shepard's hands to bring her closer. "Yeah…yeah, I do. So, just…don't die, alright? Promise me, dammit." It was taking a lot not to burst into undignified tears.

Shepard's hands tugged away and her arms wrapped around Miranda. "I…won't uh…die."

"You're a terrible liar," Miranda whispered with a half-hearted grin, gripping the woman's waist.

"How about…I don't plan on dying. It's the best I can do." Shepard leaned forward, touching their foreheads.

"God." Miranda closed her eyes. "What idiotic bunch of hormones thought that now would be a great time for love?"

"The nerve, right? Mine too, those pesky, magnificent bastards," she answered, a smile in her voice.

Miranda captured Shepard's sweat-salted mouth with her own, not minding in the least bit. Shepard's arms pulled her closer and their lips parted to let tongues dance delicately against one another, hot breath mingling, pushing into their lungs. When they pulled apart, breathless, Shepard buried her head in Miranda's hair.

"Hey…so…would now be a good time to bring up painting the Normandy a certain color…?"

"Now would be a good time to shut up," Miranda said through a small giggle she fought, and failed, to contain.

"You say the sweetest things."

"You should also probably shower. I'll go…" Miranda pulled back slightly to look at the slime covering her front. "Well, I'll go clean up as well, and get the Illusive Man on the QEC."

"Oooooh yes. Needledick and I have some words to be said."

Miranda nodded. "Indeed."


	16. Chapter 16

She was worried that the hot shower would calm her down. When the Illusive Man's image pulled to life in front of her, sitting so casually in that chair, every ounce of anger returned. She wanted to stuff the cigarette down his throat.

"Shepard. It looks like EDI ex—"

"_You_ are why we can't have nice things!" Shepard exploded, taking a few steps forward. "Next time, stab me in the front. It takes a lot less time and fake turian distress signals."

"You made it in and back. You got the data we needed," he stated calmly. "I knew you and your team would make it."

"You are making your way to the top of a very bad list…very fast," she gritted out, clenching her hands into fists.

"Oh?" Amused. Needledick was amused.

Heat raced through Shepard's body and anger bloomed in her chest, pushing against her rib cage.

"Since you're so very intent on lashing out, just what list would that be?"

"People I don't like. Who aren't dead."

He took a lazy, long drag of his cigarette. Smoke poured out with his words. "So, tell me, Shepard. If you're so adamant that I put your team in such danger, who could possibly be first on this ominous list of yours, if not me?"

_Henry…fucking…Lawson_. "None of your damn business."

"A personal vendetta, then. Interesting. This is no time for petty grudges. I trust it won't interfere with your mission."

_Petty grudge? _Shepard started grinding her teeth. She wanted nothing more than to hunt Henry Lawson down and put a bullet between his eyes from the moment Miranda had told her what he'd done. But, of course, duty called. It always called. Earth was on the Collectors' check-list. Maybe if she called up her pal, Harbinger, they could strike a deal for them to just take Miranda's sleaze-bag father.

Harbinger was almost as chatty as she was on the battlefield, except he was never any fun. _Your form is weak…Assuming direct control…I am the harbinger of your…blah blah blah…_

"I'll take it that it won't. Good. Could we get back to the matters at hand?"

"That you're an asshole? Yes. I'd love to discuss it all damn day." Shepard knew she was being too mouthy for her own good, but she couldn't bring herself to care. He had sent her and two of _her_ people, _her_ Normandy family, into a trap, that could have easily turned into destroying the ship. Again. With everyone in it. Joker, Tali, Miranda, Mordin, Kasumi… "Let's start with spending billions of credits to bring me back, just to try and get me killed. That's as good a place as any."

The Illusive Man shifted in his chair, brows pulling down a little lower. Good. She was aggravating him. She hadn't had this much fun pissing someone off since she was seventeen. "I put you at risk, yes. It was a trap, yes. I needed the Collectors to believe they had the upper hand—telling you could have tipped them off in a number of ways, and I was confident in your abilities. We needed information about the Collector home world. As I was attempting to say earlier, EDI managed to extract some interesting data regarding this."

"Too bad it wasn't anything on how to grow a goddamn conscience."

"Without this this intel, you and every other human may as well be dead." He leaned over and tapped the ash from the end of his cigarette before turning back. One eyebrow twitched upward. "Miss Lawson included," he added coldly.

Shepard crossed her arms, hoping to hide the fact that her heart had skipped a beat. She'd known he would find out about them, but she for damn sure wasn't going to let anything happen. "You don't like being insulted. Point taken. Get on with it." _You don't like being insulted…I don't like being threatened. Our relationship is going to get interesting, you well-dressed, pompous prick._

"EDI confirmed some of our suspicions. The Reapers and Collectors use an advanced, identify-friend-foe system that the relays recognize. All we need to do is get our hands on one of those IFFs."

"You mean I need to get my hands on one of those IFFs. Probably with a lot of shooting involved."

"We have options."

"Let's clarify something," she said, tilting her head up. "Another trap is _not_ an option."

He gave a long-winded explanation about finding a derelict Reaper caught in the gravity of a brown dwarf.

She fought back a giggle. _Brown dwarf. Cute little baby star. Dammit, focus, Shepard_. "Wait…derelict Reaper? As in…someone took one down?"

"This vessel is a relic from a battle waged while mammals took their firsts steps on Earth."

"Yeah, that's neat. Someone took down a Reaper?"

The Illusive Man tapped the ash from the end of his cigarette again, frowning an almost imperceptible amount. Well at least her dumb awe was annoying him, too. "There's no trace of the species that took the shot. Perhaps their last act of defiance before being wiped out."

"Last act of awesome."

"Could you focus?"

In Shepard's defense, her last comment hadn't exactly been to anger him further, but it didn't upset her that he was so obviously nearing the end of his patience for the polite façade. "Right. Dead Reaper. Completely forgotten and moving on."

"No, not completely forgotten. It will have an IFF."

Shepard ran a hand through her hair. "Riiiiight. Those things. Pop in, grab it, and get out. Easy, just like the Collector ship, right? Oh wait…"

"You've made it abundantly clear you won't be going into another trap. Make no mistake about this, it'll be dangerous. We sent a science team to study it, but lost contact with them shortly after they boarded."

Shepard stared at him. Did the man think anything through? Or was he really that heartless? A bunch of scientists?

"It was too risky to commit more resources to investigate, but now we need that IFF. In the meantime, I suggest you inform your team I didn't risk your lives unnecessarily. It will make things easier going forward."

She was already mentally preparing her opening briefing line. _The Illusive Man risked our lives unnecessarily. _"Right. EDI? Tell the crew to assemble. We've got a lot to talk about."

"Of course, Shepard."

"Oh, and do tell Operative Lawson I need to speak with her after your briefing. I will be waiting."

_Go to hell_.

She bit back her sentiment and nodded stiffly.

/ / /

Shepard had made the decision that they wouldn't head for the Reaper until she knew that her team was damn well good and ready. Miranda had brought up a good point that as soon as the IFF device was installed, it was like setting a time-bomb for the Omega-4 Relay. Yes, the Collectors were a threat, but the team wouldn't do anyone an ounce of good if they went through unprepared.

Torfan would _not_ be happening again. Major Kyle had pushed them all too far. But it had been Shepard in those hellish, underground bunkers, giving the orders to keep moving when Kyle had cut out on the comm. They'd all been somewhat distracted, and they'd paid for it. Dearly.

She paced in front of Miranda's empty desk, wondering what the hell the Illusive Man could want. Miranda was doing her job. Best damn XO Shepard had ever seen. When she had been XO under Anderson, half the time, she would get side-tracked from her reports and wind up watching extranet videos with talking cats.

She didn't even like cats all that much.

Shepard scratched at the back of her head, staring out the window. Should she even be there? She could possibly just be making matters worse for the woman. Or making matters worse if she wasn't there.

Damn that sorry bunch of hormones. Shepard often defied logic, but this would be a time when it would could come in handy.

The door slid open and Miranda stepped in, a look of surprise crossing her features only briefly. "Shepard."

"Uh…hey." Shepard watched her cross behind her desk and yank open a drawer. She hadn't thought of what to say. Oops. "Um what…what did he want?"

Miranda pulled a picture from the drawer and stared at it for a moment. "Cerberus has never told me anything is impossible. They give me my resources and say do it."

Shepard nodded.

"No one tells me _not_ to do something, Shepard." Her steely blue eyes flicked up. "_No_ one."

The commander's eyebrows raised slightly. She certainly wouldn't be telling her what not to do. Not after she proved herself to be reliable in a tough spot as acting CO, and for damn sure not after those harsh words.

Miranda tapped the picture against her palm and issued a soft, long sigh. "I could…use some back up, though."

"Of course. What do you need?" Shepard swore her heart melted every time Miranda gave her that beautiful, affectionate, pure smile.

"Maybe just stay at the top of the steps in engineering. If you hear a fight break out…well…"

"Swoop in and rescue the damsel in distress. Got it."

Miranda laughed and tugged on her hand as she started for the door. "I'm hardly the damsel in distress type."

"Even when I'm doing the rescuing?"

She paused at the doorway and leaned forward to kiss Shepard's cheek. "I'll think about it," she said with a playful grin.

"Oooh." Shepard squinted as they continued toward the elevator. "How rude."

"At least I'm honest, right?"

/ / /

"Alright," Miranda whispered, turning to face Shepard at the midway platform down to the sub-deck of engineering. She glanced down again at the photo of Jack's family in her hands. "Wish me luck."

Shepard nodded. "I'll be right here." She pointed at the last few steps of the first flight before taking a seat on the cold metal.

"I can hear your clomping from a mile away, Shepard!" Jack called up.

Miranda grimaced. "Well, she's in for a surprise," she murmured, turning to continue down.

It really was incredibly impressive how quietly she managed to walk in those boots. Shepard leaned forward and put her forearms on her knees. Damn, she was tired.

"Cheerleader?"

Shepard blinked, attempting to will away the fatigue. Had to be alert to stop any sort of fight.

"I…have something you may want, Jack."

There was a long pause.

"Is that…" Jack started.

"Yes."

"Fuck."

"Listen…I'm…I'm sorry about what they did to you. It…was wrong."

"Sorry you picked a team of assholes to fight for."

Shepard tensed as another silence stretched out. She strained to hear as their voices quieted.

"Beggars can't be choosers," Miranda said.

"Hey, uh, was what I said…that day…was it true?" Another wordless space. God there had to be a lot of awkward shuffling and staring going on down there.

_Wait…what did she say to her?_ Shepard frowned.

"Fuck. Well…sign me up for dick-head of the year award."

"I believe you were already a member, but I'll be sure to nominate you again."

"Oh, and you've got jokes. Damn, Shepard really is good for you, huh? Look, nobody should have that shit thrown in their face. I…so…I guess I'm sorry too, okay? There, I fucking said it. We even now?"

A pause and then the sound of scraping boots.

"I still hate you," Jack said gruffly.

"You're welcome."

Shepard hauled herself up as Miranda came back into view on the platform. She raised an eyebrow. "I hate you…you're welcome?" she asked, as they continued back up.

Miranda crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. "She hugged me. I figured it was a 'thank you' in its own right."

Shepard smiled as they mounted the top step and turned for the hallway housing the elevator. "I hate you is the biggest three word lie, anyway."

Miranda glanced over. "That was…deeply philosophical."

"Wait." Shepard held up a finger. "No-stick gauze is the biggest three word lie."

"And the philosophical moment has been ruined."

"Really. You'd think for the amount they charge for that stuff, it really _wouldn't_ stick! It's a conspiracy."

"Uh-huh." Miranda reached out and tapped the button for the elevator. "And when did you decide that?"

"Just now." Shepard crossed her arms. "You buy no-stick gauze and then it just rips your shit open again and you have to put it on all over…and go buy more when it keeps doing it…"

"Or you could use medi-gel, like you normally do."

"Ssshhhh." Shepard pulled her finger to her lips. "I'm conspiracizing."

"Now _that_ is definitely not a word."

"The Plaguers were conspiracizing about mutineering against their wonderful commander," Shepard said airily as the elevator door opened and they stepped in.

Miranda leaned over and lowered her forehead onto Shepard's shoulder with a laugh. "So, tell me, with this…vast vocabulary of yours…what word did you manage to misspell in your spelling bee?"

Shepard grinned. "It was a tough one."

"I'm sure."

"Real brain-bender."

"Spit it out."

"Balloon."

Miranda raised her head and set her chin on the shoulder she'd been leaning on. "Yes, very tough," she said seriously, breath tickling Shepard's ear and neck.

"Set me up to fail." She shook her head.

"It was probably a conspiracy, also."

"It must have been."

/ / /

Shepard rubbed her eyes, fighting to stay awake at her private messages terminal in her cabin that night in her t-shirt and sweatpants.

They were on their way to the Citadel already, so she could help Garrus with his Sidonis issue while they were there…she'd agreed to that in a heartbeat. If anyone had gotten her squad killed, she would be out for blood, too. She had been out for blood, back on Torfan. Each one of those four-eyed bastards paid for everything they did that day…and any day before.

Like Mindoir.

And then Mordin needed to find a colleague on Tuchanka, and Grunt had cracked a window down in his room, so talking to Wrex could be a quick fix on both of those. Taylor had also mentioned something about the long-missing Hugo Gernsback ship, out in the ass-end of nowhere-space.

"EDI?"

"Yes, Shepard?"

She crossed her arms on her desk and leaned her forehead down. "The galaxy is too big," she mumbled.

"Are you searching for a reply to this statement?"

"No," she sighed out, pulling her head up and scrolling through her archived messages. There. The subject line read a simple: _Thanks._ "Just wanted to put that out there."

"Mister Moreau could summon Miss Chambers. Or I could notify Miss Lawson."

_Shepard,_

_I don't know if you remember me. I had a gun and you stopped me from hurting myself. My doctors say I am doing better. One of them works with the people you work for. He told me he could get a message to you._

"No," Shepard said quietly. "No, it's okay. Know any good jokes?"

"I can initiate a search on the extranet for one."

_I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't talked to me that day, but the doctors are helping me, I am getting better. They put me in a special school, and they say I am doing good. The doctors say that other people are getting taken like I was. I hope you can help them like you helped me._

_Thank you,_

_Talitha._

"I believe I have found one you will like."

Shepard blinked at the sting in her eyes. Make a joke and everything'd be alright. A good laugh and she'd be ready to go save the world. All the worlds. "Let's hear it!" She leaned back and laced her fingers behind her head.

"What do you call a fake noodle?"

Shepard smiled. "What?"

"An im-pasta."

She broke into a loud laugh, inadvertently squeezing the tears from her eyes. She wiped them away, smiling. "Alright. That was good. Let's hear another one."

"One moment…okay. What did the janitor shout when he jumped out of the closet?"

She was already giggling. "Haha…okay…heh…what?"

"Supplies. Exclamation point."

She nearly toppled forward from her chair. "Oh damn," she finally managed to wheeze out. "Oh man, that was good. You're good at this."

"I believe you are the only one to think this, but thank you."

Shepard read over the message again. Maybe she couldn't fight for every face, but she knew this one. Wide, terrified, grey eyes that slowly focused upon her cautious approaches.

_"__Will she have bad dreams?" _

Shepard had hugged her, hoping her armor wasn't too cold. _"No,"_ she'd answered quietly. _"You'll dream of somewhere happy. And when you wake up…you'll be in it."_

_ "__She'd like that. It hurts when she…when I remember."_

Shepard had scooped her up and carried her back to Girard. She was so skinny. Yes, she could fight for Talitha. She could fight for Miranda, and Chakwas. She could fight for the faces of her Normandy crew. "Okay, EDI. Up for one more?"

"Yes, Shepard. One moment…I have found another. What did the blanket say when it fell off the bed?"

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Uh…I dunno'. What?"

"Oh sheet."

She laughed again and stood, stretched her arms high above her head. "Haha…sheet. I'm gonna' start using that."

"I do not believe anyone else will know the reference."

"Well it'll be an inside joke. Me and you."

"A 'whisper pal'?"

"A…what? Sure…if that's what you want to call it."

"Mister Moreau used the term this time-cycle morning while speaking to Miranda over closed comm link."

"Wait." Shepard stopped at the stairs leading down to the bedroom. "What did they talk about?"

There was a pause. "Hold, please."

"What? EDI don't you put me on hold!" Shepard stared uselessly at the ceiling. "EDI!" Another few seconds ticked silently by.

"Mister Moreau said I am not allowed to divulge the information. He also referred to me as a blabbermouth."

"Yeah, you are. So spill it!"

"I cannot."

Shepard ran her hand across her eyes. She was arguing with a machine. Definitely time for bed. She went over, yanked off the blanket, and grabbed a pillow. _Haha…oh sheet._ She started giggling to herself again as she made her way to the couch and flopped down, pulling the blanket over herself and snuggling down. "Goodnight, EDI."

"Goodnight, Shepard. Logging you out."

/ / /

"Shepard?"

She tumbled from the couch and landed on the floor on her hands and knees. She squinted, light pouring in from the sky-light above the bed. "M…Miranda," she said thickly. She looked up through her narrowed eyes. "Good…morning?"

"Yes…we're at the Citadel, and…did you sleep on the couch all night?"

Shepard pulled herself up and dusted at her front. Miranda was already dressed, but in civilian attire. A pair of well-fitting jeans and a white v-neck. "What time is it?"

"Ten." Miranda tilted her head. "And answer the question."

"Maybe."

"So yes."

"Yes, I slept on the couch. My posture apologizes." Shepard pulled the blanket and pillow back toward the bed and heaped them on top. _Ha…oh sheet. That was a good one._ No use in making the bed, now that someone figured out she didn't sleep in it. That secret had been blown to…sheet. She giggled, ignoring the strange look she got from Miranda. She was having way too much fun with that joke. "Is Garrus up and ready?" She scratched at the back of her messy head of hair, attempting to regain a little composure. Time to start saving the day.

Miranda gave her a smirk. "Yes. Now get dressed. But not your armor."

"Wait…what?"

"Do you trust me?" She took a step forward and grabbed her hand.

She was so close that Shepard could faintly smell her shampoo. Almost like a perfume. She attempted to blink sleep from her eyes. "Yeah…but I—"

"No buts," Miranda cut her off. She motioned to a bag sitting at the top of the steps. "Had to find you something without the Cerberus logo everywhere."

"How did you know my siz…oh yeah."

Miranda smiled. "My powers of observation are awe-inspiring."

Shepard gave her a sleepy, lopsided grin. "I swear I've heard that somewhere before."

Miranda leaned forward and kissed her cheek lightly, sending heat coursing through Shepard's body. "Would you just get dressed? I'll be waiting at the airlock." She pulled away and started for the door. "Oh, Garrus helped with picking out the shirt. Said you would know what it meant, something about actually knowing a good vid, which I find somewhat hard to believe. And Thane is the only reason you don't have hot pink pants, so be sure to thank him," she said over her shoulder.

Shepard trundled to the bag and pulled out the shirt. Her face lit up in a grin at the black t-shirt with block letters. _USCSS NOSTROMO_ _180286_.

"Hell yes!"

/ / /

"So…do I get to figure out what the hell we're doing yet?" Shepard asked as she pulled up to Miranda. She'd brushed her hair into submission and brushed her teeth…and maybe struck a few poses in front of the mirror to admire her shirt before coming down.

"No." Miranda smiled and walked into the pressurization compartment, Shepard trailing behind.

"I don't like surprises."

"Which is why I'm quite enjoying this."

"Is it a date?" Shepard asked hopefully.

"I'm not answering."

"I'm calling it a date, then."

They waited as the first door closed and the air pressurized, popping their ears, before the second door opened and they started out.

"Wait…we aren't at our normal spot."

"I know. Just…trust me." Miranda reached back and took Shepard's hand. "Come on."

"We're holding hands. It's totally a date," Shepard said, grinning crookedly.

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Would you shut up and walk?"

Shepard couldn't recall being to that particular part of the Citadel until they broke into the open, lower presidium complex after a hallway and elevator ride; full of trees, artificial sunlight, and the different species passing each other on the wide walkways. She looked into the fake blue sky and sighed.

"This reminds me a little of Earth," Miranda said from beside her, obviously knowing where they were going as she guided them along a bridge. "Not nearly as beautiful, but it does alright. A welcome change from some of the piss-holes we've been recently."

Shepard gasped and put her free hand to her chest. "Are you calling my favorite place, Korlus, a piss-hole?"

"I most certainly am calling that ship salvage graveyard a piss-hole."

"How rude." Shepard squeezed her hand and looked over the railing to the lake below. "So where did you grow up on Earth?"

"Australia."

"Did you ever throw a boomerang?" Shepard looked over, raising her eyebrows.

Miranda giggled. "Once. I can't say I was very good."

"What about play a didgeridoo?"

"No."

"You…are a terrible Australian."

Miranda bumped her shoulder and laughed. "You're poorly informed of culture and completely absurd. Besides, I doubt you could even throw a boomerang as well as I can."

"Challenge…accepted. Let's go find a boomerang store."

Miranda shook her head, pulling her onward.

They stepped into an elevator at the end of the bridge and rode it up several floors.

"Huerta Memorial Inpatient Care?" Shepard read the scrolling, blue hologram above the white tiles in a wide, waiting room. It was lined with black, plastic chairs, old magazines littering the waiting tables.

Miranda smiled and tugged her out, looking…almost giddy. They approached a desk in front of a locked door.

"Name?" The asari behind the counter looked up.

Miranda put her free hand on Shepard's arm lightly. "Shepard is here to see Talitha."

"Oh, of course." The asari stood and gave them a polite smile. "I'm Risha."

"Wait…" Shepard turned to Miranda, eyes darting between the asari and her. "Talitha?"

Miranda nodded and squeezed her arm.

"So you _do_ read my mail." Shepard raised an eyebrow before pulling her into a hug. "Oriana is totally as smart as you."

"Would you—"

Shepard cut her off with an uncoordinated kiss, then hugged her tightly. "Thanks," she whispered.

"Of course." Miranda pulled back and fussed absently with the strands of hair at the sides of Shepard's face. "Go on, Commander." She nodded toward the asari.

Shepard took a deep breath and turned to Risha. "Lead the way."

/ / /

Risha glanced over her shoulder after she entered a code to the doors behind the desk, leading Shepard down a hall. "You picked a good day to come by. She's had a very good week."

Shepard wiped her palms on her jeans. Why was she so nervous?

Risha stopped at an open door and knocked on the doorway. "Talitha, honey? Someone is here to see you."

Shepard pulled from behind the asari and raised her hand, almost timidly. She smiled. "Hi, Talitha." The room was small and carpeted, with a desk at the far right, and a windowed wall in front, spilling sunlight in on the young woman sitting cross-legged in front of a mess of puzzle pieces. There was a neatly-made bed on the left side.

Talitha had gained some weight; her cheekbones and jaw weren't jutting out, her eyes weren't sunken anymore but shining, and soft brown hair tumbled to her shoulders. She was in a blue shirt and brown cargo jeans. "Shepard?" Talitha smiled. "Shepard!" She jumped from the floor and ran forward.

Shepard let out a startled grunt as the girl grabbed her in a hug with her wiry arms.

"Did you get the message I sent?" She asked a little breathlessly, pulling back. "You got it, huh?"

"Y-yeah, yeah, I did."

"Do you want to see what I like to do?" Talitha grabbed one of Shepard's hands with both of her own.

"Uh…yes?" Shepard glanced over to Risha, making sure she was doing this right. Take down geth? No problem. Get a Collector ship turned on while she was in it? Went there, did that, bought a t-shirt. But…this…she wasn't sure. She'd nearly been pissing herself two years ago, talking the girl down, hoping she was saying the right things.

Risha smiled at her and left, keeping the door slightly ajar.

"This way, Shepard," Talitha said brightly, pulling her to the desk. She rummaged through three hopelessly disorganized drawers before pulling out a glossy, pink folder. "Here. I do these." She shoved it out proudly. "Look! Look in it!"

Shepard opened the folder and shuffled through sheets of clunky, clumsy crayon-people. "They're beautiful!" She smiled.

"And look, look." Talitha dragged her over to the bed and flopped down, patting the space next to her. Shepard sat down and let her shift through the papers. "No, no, no…yes, here. Look, remember how you said you lost your daddy and daddy? I drew this for you." She held out the sheet, beaming.

Shepard swallowed the lump in her throat and stared at the picture. Shepard was clearly in some very clunky armor, and two, taller…what she assumed were supposed to be her fathers, were at her side.

"See? It's you." She pointed to the middle figure. "And your daddy and daddy." Her finger moved between the other two. "And I made another one." She started pawing through the drawings again before pulling out another. "It's you and it's me."

Shepard attempted to keep the tears back and failed. Two dripped from her face. "It's very pretty. I like it a lot."

"Oh no, Shepard! You're leaking!" Talitha grabbed her pillow and jolted it out of its case, then held up the white sheet to her nose. "Just blow."

Shepard laughed and made a show of blowing into the pillowcase for her. "There. There, I'm all better," she said.

"Good." Talitha held it out over the floor with her index finger and thumb. "They do that for me, sometimes," she said, dropping it to the floor. "Only they have tissues."

"Good improv," Shepard said, grinning. "Very resourceful."

Talitha pointed to the puzzle. "Do you like it? The doctor who said he could get my message to you…said they had to put you back together." Her wide, grey eyes fixed on Shepard's face. "Is that why you have owies?"

Shepard nodded as Talitha gently probed at the scars. It stung a little, but she didn't mind. "Yeah, that's why I have owies. We're still working on that part."

"Oh, but that's why!" Talitha pointed back to the puzzle again. "I wanted to put things together, too. See? I've done other ones." Her finger raised to sweep around the room at matted puzzles, all growing in size, along the walls. "I'm on three-thousand pieces now. Do you want to help some?"

Shepard eased onto the floor as the girl bounded to the opposite side of the large rectangle.

"Here, that's the picture." Talitha handed over the box cover, very business-like. "You try to do some of the sky."

Shepard scanned the picture. A city-scape of Nos Astra at night. As if she'd be able to discern stars from lights from zooming sky cars. "Right. Got it."

It was half an hour of Talitha diligently sorting through pieces, miraculously fitting them together, and Shepard fumbling with more pieces, trying to look as if she was doing something important, before Talitha looked up, as if suddenly remembering something. "I did dream of somewhere nice, when I took those sleepy pills. And I woke up somewhere nice. Just like you said." And then she bent her head down again, content with pulling the picture together piece-by-piece. She paused and scratched at her nose before glancing to the piece Shepard was holding. "Silly." She giggled, reaching over. "That's a building."

"Oh, my bad. Of course." Shepard frowned slightly as she continued. "Talitha, this is amazing. How the heck do you do this?"

"Can't look at all the pieces you don't have," Talitha answered simply, shrugging. "Or you get lost."

Shepard rubbed around her mouth. "I think I'd get lost regardless."

Talitha laughed again. "That's okay. Just try again. Here." She leaned forward and handed her a dark purple piece.

Shepard was bad at puzzles.

The next hour proved that.

Talitha happily chattered on about school, and art being her favorite class, and not liking math. They both looked up as Risha poked her head in again.

Shepard held back a sigh. If only she could spend days like this…she had a sneaking suspicion that one of these days, if she ever got the chance to retire, she'd be a total homebody. Doing dishes, trying to help with puzzles and getting nowhere…she could totally see Miranda doing a puzzle.

"Okay, Talitha. It's almost time for your therapy session."

"So I have to say goodbye to Shepard?" Talitha didn't look up from her work.

"Yes, dear."

"Okay."

"I'll wait outside the door."

Talitha tilted her head up and the light streaming through the window caught her eyes, turning them a shining silver. "Thank you, Shepard." She jumped up and grabbed the two pictures from the bed and held them out. "Take these," she said earnestly.

Shepard had to stop her eyes from 'leaking' again as she stood and accepted them. She held out the lone puzzle piece she hadn't managed to find any matching pieces for.

"No, no." Talitha closed her hands around Shepard's, curling her fingers back around it. "Keep it."

Shepard raised her eyebrows. "But the picture won't be finished when you're done."

"But if you don't keep it, then you won't have a piece to show you helped!" she protested.

_Mmm…helped is a bit of a relative term, here. Unless staring in awe is helping…nah, I'm sure I brought something to the table…charisma?_

"Keep it. When I see it missing, I'll think of when you came and it made me happy. And maybe it'll help me on my sad days."

Shepard hugged her, letting her snuggle against her shoulder. "It'll help me on my sad days, too."

"See? So we help each other." Talitha pulled back and smiled up at her.

Shepard couldn't tug the words from her throat. She was lousy with goodbyes.

"Goodbye, Shepard," Talitha said, patting her cheek lightly.

Shepard nodded heavily, but turned at the doorway. She knew what to say. "Wait…Talitha. Do you think…" She waved a hand around her face. "The red works? Or should I go with blue?"

Talitha giggled. "Maybe pink. Pink is a happy color."

Shepard snapped her fingers together and smiled. "I'll look into it."

Risha patted her shoulder as they made their way back down the hall. "You did well, Shepard."

"Did I?" She laughed nervously. "'Cuz I was nervous as…sheet." And she broke into a giggle, earning a very confused look from Risha.

She really was having _way_ too much fun with that joke.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews, everyone! You're too kind. :) Have wonderful days!**


	17. Chapter 17

"Oh, hey, Miranda," Kasumi greeted cheerily from the port lounge bar. "So how did Shep like her surprise date?"

Miranda rolled her eyes and eased into the seat next to her. "It wasn't a date."

"Keep telling yourself that." Kasumi grinned and raised a glass of pink liquid. "I'd offer you a drink, but you're kinda' on duty, with Shep off to help Garrus."

Miranda nodded, folding her hands on the counter. Shepard had left just after lunch with Garrus and Tali. A quick turnaround of events from her visit with Talitha, if Shepard's track record of something happening without gunfire was any sort of indication of where that mission was headed. "I have a question."

Kasumi's hands shot up in the air. "I swear to God it wasn't my idea! I didn't make the password, so I can't remember!"

"Um…excuse me?"

"Oh…" She lowered her hands. "Uh…well, this is awkward."

"Just what the hell are you talking about?"

"Nothing."

"You do realize I can tell when people are lying?"

"All I'm saying is that it wasn't me. I mean maybe I…nope. I should stop."

"I've conducted interrogations before."

"Nice weather here on the Citadel, isn't it?" Kasumi asked breezily, looking away, toward the window. "Of course it's fake, so…"

Miranda rolled her eyes. She'd get answers sooner or later. That wouldn't slip her memory. "Fine. Back to business, then."

"Aw. No heart-to-heart girl talk about a special Commander?"

Miranda pressed her lips together and raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, I'm a little bit of a hopeless romantic. So sue me." Kasumi took a drink and leaned against the counter. "You know, what you say would stay strictly between us. And EDI. And maaaaaybe—"

"Goto. Pay attention." Miranda ran a hand across her brow. "Honestly, is it some sort of Shepard germ that goes around and makes people completely immune to focusing for more than five seconds?"

"If it is, you're first on the list for catching it!" Kasumi giggled and held up a hand as Miranda gave her a healthy glare-down. "Okay. So…what was it you needed?"

"A favor."

"Hmmm. Favors for favors, then?" Kasumi leaned back, her lips curling up.

"Something like that."

"Alright. Since you twisted my arm." Her fingers tapped lightly against the counter top. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'm smart, but I'm not a technical genius by any standards."

"Flattery?" Kasumi's eyes glittered beneath her red hood.

"Stating facts," Miranda countered. "It's recently come to my attention that I'm not as…informed…as I would like to be. Turns out, I need a little help rectifying this particular situation."

"Thought you were some hot-shot in the Cerberus ranks." The thief took another sip of her drink. "Mister Illusive not want you to see something?"

Miranda blinked in response, waiting for her to put together pieces.

"Oh…oh! _Oh_." Kasumi sat up straighter. "Teltin?"

The operative gave a small nod. "He ordered all files destroyed. He tells me he ordered the operation shut down long before they turned to torture, but…"

"You don't believe him."

"No."

Kasumi tilted her head. "What do you need from me?"

Miranda pushed forward a small electronic omni-tool chip, keeping her eyes up. "Our system does a file sweep and hard-save every six hours. This is the last data save point before all the files regarding it went missing. I want you to find out just what the hell was going on, and look for any other projects with similarities."

"You're the boss." Kasumi took the chip between two fingers and gave a salute with them.

Miranda stood and started for the door, but turned as it opened. "Oh…before I forget…I was informed you're to blame for Shepard's new-found hobby."

"The model ships?"

"Mmhm."

Kasumi spread her hands, chip already out of sight. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You certainly 'don't know' a lot of things this afternoon."

"Hey, at least she can't kill toy space ships, right? Poor Mister Bubbles and Mrs. Bubbles. I hear they were madly in love."

"What is it with Shepard and titles?" Miranda put her hand against the doorway. "Sir Knight McFurball? Who even…? I mean really."

"Oh, there was a Captain Eugene in the casualty list too." Kasumi ran a finger around the rim of her glass. "And High Master of the Doctorial Bertha. They were getting pretty scandalous."

"Doctorial? Doctorial of what?"

"I believe Shep's words were 'all the things.'"

"A very smart fish." Miranda crossed her arms loosely against her stomach. "The galaxy must be a much dimmer place without…Bertha and Eugene."

"Don't forget the Bubbles."

"And…the…" Miranda couldn't keep a straight face. She burst into a giggle, then covered her mouth, pulling her composure together again. "Of course. The Bubbles."

Kasumi raised her glass to her lips and paused, grinning over the top. "You know, at first it was a little weird seeing you starting to lighten up. I like it."

* * *

"Tali, if I made a password, what would it be?"

"What kind of question is that, Garrus?" Tali leaned forward from the backseat of the sky car.

"It's not that weird."

Shepard raised her eyebrows and looked at her turian friend. "Actually, it kinda' is."

"Okay, fine…do you have any ideas, Shepard?" He turned on the blinker as they waited in traffic.

"Calibrations."

"Nope. Tried that one. Damn." He rested his elbow against the door and rubbed across his brow.

"Calibrate? Calibrating. Calib…cal…nope, I'm out of ideas." Shepard shrugged and shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position in the passenger seat.

Tali tilted her head to the side thoughtfully and tapped at her face plate. "Well, most passwords now require you have a non-dictionary word, a symbol, and a number."

"Damn, that's complicated," Shepard muttered.

"Tell me about it." Garrus closed his eyes briefly as he inched the car forward. "Can't slap omni-gel on anything anymore, either."

Tali shifted, bringing her arms up to rest on the middle console. "Why are you asking us for a password?"

"Mmmm…how about some music?" Garrus reached for the radio knob.

"Garrus Vakarian! Don't you ignore me!" Tali swatted his hand away.

"I was sworn to secrecy!"

Shepard stared out the window to the busy streets below. Early evening lower-wards traffic was a bitch. "Wait! I got it!" She clapped her hands together and looked over at the two, who looked as though they were in the middle of a silent argument. "Talibrations3."

Garrus blinked. "I don't think that's it."

"Talibrations? What kind of word is that?" Tali demanded.

"I thought it was cute."

"I don't do cute, Shepard," Garrus said.

Shepard crossed her arms huffily. "I'm not the one losing my passwords!"

"Well I wasn't the one managing the…" Garrus' eyes widened and he jerked his head forward again. "Oh, look at that. Traffic's moving." The car started along at a slow crawl.

"Mmhm." Tali leaned back and crossed her legs. "Some getaway this is. Very action-vid material."

"Wait." Shepard looked from Garrus to Tali and back. "Managing what?"

"You know, this _is_ very action-vid material. Gallant turian makes an excellent sniper kill, gets stuck in a jam with a tech expert and dead Spectre. I'd watch that."

Tali shook her head. "I don't think this jam counts as one of those jams."

"Managing what?" Shepard repeated.

"But it's a jam."

"Not the point, Garrus."

"Um…helloooooo." Shepard waved a hand. "I do have a rocket launcher."

"Yes." Tali reached forward and patted her armored arm. "And it's very shiny."

"Archangel maybe?" Garrus mused. "Maybe it was in all capitals…"

"First my megaphone, and now—"

Garrus slammed on the brakes, throwing Shepard against her seatbelt. He glanced over and grinned. "Oops."

"Hey! Watch the proximotorus bone! I broke it once already!"

Tali giggled from the back seat. "I don't think that's what it's called, Shepard."

"Gah!" She whacked the dash again. "Whatever it is! You know what I'm talking about!"

"Tell me Shepard," Garrus said, "what exactly is this 'proximotorus' bone connected to?"

"My punch you in the face bone."

"Touche!" He laughed. "Alright, a serious moment." The car finally turned the corner and they shifted up a lane, zooming along at a decent speed, finally. "You and Lawson."

Shepard turned to look out the window again, hiding the stupid grin she knew had already plastered itself across her scarred features. The simple phrase, pairing them together, brought fond memories of soft lips and—

"Would you say your relationship is to a point where you could…oh, I dunno'…convince her not to kill a few crew mates?"

"Um…what?" Shepard raised an eyebrow and glanced at Garrus.

"Hypothetically speaking, of course." He waved a hand in the air.

Shepard sighed and settled back into her seat, crossing her arms. "Hypothetically speaking, I just might let her kick a certain turian's ass from one end of the ship to the other since he's being so difficult."

"Alright. Good to know."

* * *

Miranda finished her last report on the planet scanning they'd done in the system that night after Shepard, Garrus, and Tali had gotten back, and stretched her arms above her head. Jump through the hoops for now.

_"__I'm not against you blowing off a little steam, Operative Lawson, but I am against anything that threatens your clarity of mind on this mission. As far as I can tell, your reports have still been accurate and timely, so I won't order anything against this certain…association with Shepard."_

Sure, she'd keep sending her reports. It was her job, after all.

_"__You won't, however, keep attempting to access restricted files. Teltin, Overlord. Those are small blemishes caused by rogue agents on this organization's record. I suggest you destroy anything you found having to do with Teltin. It will make things easier for __**all**__ involved. Do I make myself clear?"_

The way he'd said 'all'. Not just she and him, not just Shepard and Jack. He'd been threatening Oriana.

Too bad for him Shepard managed to catch that beforehand.

Too bad for him Miranda was as smart as he'd relied on in the past.

Too bad for him it was coming back to bite him now.

No need setting off alarms in his head by blowing off his unspoken threat. For now, it would be best if he believed he was still in absolute control over her situation.

She stood up and started for her door, wanting to get out of the confines of her office. It slid open to the sound of some ridiculous, upbeat, electronic music she'd expect to hear in a club. She rounded the corner. "Um…Shepard?" The second figure was the real surprise. "Thane?"

Thane turned and nodded his head slightly. "Operative Lawson. Good evening."

Shepard was in the middle of…Miranda would call it dancing, had it been even the smallest bit more…dance-ish. It looked more like she was in the middle of seizing. Standing up. "Hey!" She called breathlessly. She was in her cargo pants and that _NOSTROMO_ shirt…whatever it meant. At least she liked it.

Miranda pulled up beside Thane, who was standing at the kitchen counter. "What…is she doing?"

Thane laced his fingers together behind his back and straightened, looking over to her. "I am unsure. She expressed an interest in learning to move more gracefully for dance, and told me she would show me what she has thus far. I thought this was, perhaps, a warm-up."

"No!" Shepard called. "These are the moves, Krios!" And she balled up her fists, throwing them upward one at a time, and then in front of her one at a time in beat to the music.

Thane let the ghost of a smile pass his lips, dark eyes settling on Miranda. "You two are an interesting match."

Miranda rubbed across her forehead. "Yes…interesting seems to pop up quite a lot with her."

"Check it out…it's a classic…it's the Macarena!"

"If she goes on much longer, I believe it will qualify as an adequate cardiovascular work-out," Thane offered.

"Okay." Shepard finally stopped her convulsions and flicked off the music coming from the portable speaker on the forward mess table. "Since I'm so bad, why don't you show me how it's done?"

"Gladly." Thane strode forward and stood next to Shepard so they were shoulder-to-shoulder, then held out his left hand, toward Miranda. "Like so."

Shepard mirrored his gesture.

"Now you say…Miss Lawson, may I have this dance?"

A crooked grin lit up Shepard's features. "I dunno', Krios. I don't think I can sound half as bad ass as you do."

"You asked me for help, Commander, so this is my mission for the night. I will not allow you to move from this spot until you ask her."

Miranda crossed her arms and grinned, raising an eyebrow.

"Alright, alright, Mister Bossy," Shepard grumbled. Her eyes flicked down toward the floor and wiped her hand against her cargo pants. "Actually." She turned to face Thane. "See, I'll probably step on her boots and she'd murder me for clomping on her posture-shoes."

Thane pointed back to the operative. "No excuses. You are to help me with a matter tomorrow, and I am to help you with one tonight."

"Maybe if you show me." Shepard rubbed at the back of her neck, taking a few timid steps back. "Visual learner and all that."

Thane shook his head slightly, then looked to Miranda. "She is always this difficult, isn't she?"

Miranda shrugged. "More or less."

"Shepard, I am not going to dance with your partner."

Shepard swallowed hard then held out her hand again. "Miss Lawson…may I have this dance?"

Miranda bit back a laugh. It was obvious Shepard was self-conscious. She couldn't exactly understand why, considering she'd been sporting her appalling 'moves', quite unashamedly, not two minutes before. She tugged off the gloves to her black uniform and set them neatly on the counter before striding forward and taking Shepard's hand. "I suppose," she said with a playful grin.

"And there are the magic words. That was not as hard as you thought, was it, Shepard?" Thane took a step back. "Now—"

"Wait. Magic words…passwords…" Shepard focused on Miranda's face. "Do you know why Garrus would need a password for anything?"

Miranda frowned in thought for a moment. "Hm…Kasumi said something about not knowing a password earlier. It sounded as though she were in on some sort of plan."

"Damn." Shepard twitched her lips. "Garrus doesn't know it either."

"A plan with Garrus and Kasumi." Miranda glanced toward the main battery. "What could they possibly plan together?"

Thane gave a polite cough. "Ladies. Dancing."

Shepard held up her free hand. "Hold, please. Well, Garrus wouldn't tell me."

"And why wouldn't he tell you? He's one of your best friends."

Shepard chewed absently on her lower lip. "It must be about me, then…but _wait_. He asked if I could keep you from killing a few crew mates!"

"A few? More than him and Kasumi?"

Shepard squinted her eyes. "It's a conspiracy."

"About you and I?" Miranda laughed.

"There are worse things to conspire about." Shepard shrugged.

They both jumped as Thane put a hand on each of their shoulders. "Pardon me for interrupting, but I will teach Shepard, at the very least, a basic dance position before I retire for the night."

_Oh God. The Shepard non-focusing germ. I caught it_. Miranda gave a business-like nod. "Right. Conspiracies can wait until the morning. If I recall correctly, Shepard, you did ask me to dance."

"Very good." Thane paced over to the portable speaker and pulled up the haptic interface to change the music. He turned as a much slower song started playing. "You can't expect any dancing to be done so far apart."

Shepard stepped closer to Miranda, their bodies nearly brushing against each other.

"Much better."

"So uh…" Shepard held up her free hand. "What's this guy doing? Just…chilling out in the middle of nowhere?"

"Put it on her waist."

"Okay…simple enough." It came to rest lightly at Miranda's waist.

"Now…I do believe this might be the hard part for you, Shepard, but I want you to move slowly to the beat."

"No Macarena?"

"No."

"Gosh," Shepard whispered. "I run a ship full of hard-asses."

Miranda laughed quietly, bringing her left hand up to rest on Shepard's shoulder. "Just shut up and dance, Commander," she murmured.

"I thought that's what we were doing?"

"You haven't quite nailed the shut up part, yet."

"Do I ever?"

Miranda slid her right hand from Shepard's easy grasp and circled her arms around her neck, leaning closer so only she could hear her. "Only when I kiss you."

"Krios! Krios, there's an improv! What do I do with my hand?" Shepard waved her left hand frantically at their sides.

Miranda started laughing and dropped her forehead to the commander's shoulder.

"Step one is to stay calm, Shepard."

"Okay…alright, I'm calm. I'm good."

"Put that one on her waist also."

"Oh, well…that was easy. I'm a pro dancer now."

"Technically, you are not dancing. You are standing."

"Dammit. I knew it was too easy."

Miranda lifted her head slightly. "It's alright," she whispered teasingly against her ear. "Rome wasn't built in a day." She smiled at the involuntary shudder than ran through Shepard's body. "Just take a little step to your left…yes. And then one to the right."

"We," Shepard whispered, "are going to end up in the splits. And I don't bend that way."

Miranda shifted her foot to tap Shepard's back toward their centers.

Thane nodded out of the corner of her eye. "I believe I have fulfilled my purpose here tonight, Shepard. I will see you both for the morning meal."

Miranda pulled back slightly and turned, smiling. "Thank you, Thane. I would wave, but it would probably send Shepard into hysterics again with the improvisation."

His green lips tilted up. "Yes. They probably would. Goodnight, you two."

"Thanks, Krios."

Miranda let her head rest on Shepard's shoulder again, the new shirt fabric soft against her cheek. "You know," she said quietly, "I kind of think we're crazy."

"Well I know I'm crazy, so that part of the equation is settled."

Miranda smiled against her neck. "I wasn't talking about—"

"I know." Shepard moved so her arms were wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. They'd stopped their minimal movement, but Miranda didn't care. "I think I might be up for an improv."

"Oh?" Miranda moved to press their foreheads together. "And what might that be?"

"It's a new move…I like to call it…" She suddenly pulled away, grabbing one of Miranda's hands and starting for the port lounge. "Me and my stunning dance partner interrogate Kasumi."

Miranda laughed. "I'm not sure Thane would approve of this move."

Shepard whirled around, tugging her close and putting her free hand at the back of Miranda's head as she met her lips with a hot, passionate kiss, her tongue running teasingly over Miranda's partially parted teeth. She quirked an eyebrow up after she pulled away.

"Then again," she managed to get out thickly, "it is called an improvisation for a reason."

"Interrogation, now?"

"Yes…at least that is the main part of this new dance move, is it not?"

"Haha!" Shepard squeezed her hand and continued forward. "This is the best date ever!"


	18. Chapter 18

"Dammit." Shepard crossed her arms as they entered the port lounge. "Sneaky must have known we were coming." She shifted her weight onto one leg.

Miranda grinned and put her hand on Shepard's shoulder. "Hold on." She closed her eyes and focused her hearing; the gentle pulse of the drive core thrumming through the floor, Shepard's quiet, even breathing next to her, her own breath near-silently entering and exiting through her nostrils.

There.

The slightest buzz that didn't belong to the life of the ship.

Her eyes snapped open and she glanced toward the bar. "We know you're here," she said.

"Huh?" Shepard raised an eyebrow.

Miranda whacked her arm.

"Oh! Yes, yes we do! And you are right…over…there?" Shepard raised her hand and pointed uncertainly toward the window.

"Mmm…not quite." Miranda pushed Shepard's arm to the right by her wrist. "More so over there."

"That's what I meant the first time," Shepard agreed seriously.

"Of course you did," Miranda said through a small giggle.

"You know," Kasumi said, de-cloaking and crossing her arms, "it's really not fair about your super-human hearing."

"It's not super-human," Miranda argued, taking a step away from Shepard. "It's just…well." She shrugged. "Perfect hearing."

"Oh, by the way, I saw some of Shep's moves." Kasumi's mouth quirked upward in a grin. "Macarena?"

"It…is…a _classic_!" Shepard threw her hands in the air. "It's cool!"

"Debatable." Kasumi breezed around the bar, making for the couch.

"Miranda, wasn't it cool?" Shepard turned to her.

Miranda laughed and rested a hand on the small of the commander's back. "Not in the least."

"Oh, everyone's a critic," Shepard mumbled, a small shiver running through her body at the contact.

"Hard not to be with those kinds of 'moves.'" Kasumi picked up a data pad from the arm of the couch.

"Goto," Miranda said, straightening, "we have some questions for you."

Her head tilted up from her data pad. "Do you, now?"

"Yes!" Shepard agreed. "What is all this shit with passwords and Garrus?"

"Well, he's the one who's _supposed_ to know the password. Why don't you ask him?"

"Because you'll be easier to tackle." Shepard grinned and took a few steps forward.

Miranda nodded. "And beat information out of."

"What?" Kasumi took a step back, pushing her back against the window. "Uh…Shep?"

Shepard laughed. "Start talking!"

"I don't know anything!"

"Looks like we're doing this the hard way." Shepard ran forward and Kasumi lightly hopped onto the couch, avoiding her flailing grip.

"Hard for who?" She asked, smiling, one foot on the back of the couch and the other on the arm. "Or would it be whom?"

Shepard lunged forward again and Kasumi easily back-flipped to the floor, leaving the commander to gracelessly slam into the furniture with a whoosh of air. She looked up from being draped over the back of the couch. "Show off."

"I try."

She crawled over the obstruction to fall in a heap on the floor.

Kasumi tilted her head and looked over to Miranda. "She's a keeper."

Miranda smiled as Shepard hopped up and grabbed for the evasive thief uselessly again. She issued a thoughtful hum. "You think so?"

Kasumi ducked from Shepard's arms and skipped a few feet to the side.

"I think so!" Shepard stopped grabbing and put her hands on her hips, grinning.

Kasumi flitted over and poked her in the side, eliciting a giggle.

"Haha—dammit, Goto! That's cheating!" Shepard threw herself to the side, miraculously catching Kasumi's arm and pulling them both down to the floor. She laughed, keeping Kasumi from wiggling away by grabbing her from behind and pinning her arms to her sides. "Oooh sheet! Now you're done! Haha…sheet…"

Miranda shook her head. "Why do you keep saying that?"

"It's an inside joke with _my_ whisper pal." Shepard raised an eyebrow with a lopsided grin.

"That's the most ridiculous term I've ever heard." Miranda strode forward and squatted next to the squirming thief. "So, Goto. About those questions we had…"

"I don't know anything!"

"If you don't tell me something, I'm going to pull your hood back and we'll actually see your forehead." Miranda rested her forearms on her knees.

"No, no, okay! Okay, wait!" Kasumi finally managed to free a hand from Shepard's grip and held it up. "Okay, so…well. It was all Mordin's idea."

"Mordin?" Miranda exchanged a glance with Shepard.

"See, you were so uptight when all this started and…we thought it'd be a good idea."

"I'm not sure I like where this is going."

"Yeeaaah," Kasumi agreed. "If I keep talking, do I get immunity or something?"

"Probably not."

Kasumi gave a strangled groan.

Shepard let her shoulders jump up and down. "At least she's honest."

"You've started, now," Miranda said. "What's the harm in finishing?"

Kasumi tilted her head toward Shepard. "I thought you took up model ship building for a new hobby."

"But interrogations are so much more fun. I could shoot you in the ass again, if you'd rather…"

"Alright. Point taken." Kasumi looked back to Miranda. "I'm not sure I like that you two get to gang up on people now."

"Mmhm. Keep talking." Miranda raised an eyebrow.

"So…Mordin came up with the idea at dinner one night. Said maaaaybe we could…I dunno'…get you a date?"

Miranda brought her hand up to her forehead and pressed her palm against it.

"Garrus and Mordin filled out the profile…guess we were wrong about who…" She laughed nervously. "Anyway…Mordin rerouted emails from your terminal to his when they were from iPartner and—"

"Oh my God. iPartner?!" Miranda exclaimed. "Honestly!"

"When did they start putting 'i' in front of things again?" Shepard asked, frowning. "Didn't that stop being cool a long time ago?"

"Some things come back in style," Kasumi said. "Pay attention, Shep. But—he rerouted the messages and—"

"Don't those things need pictures?" Miranda cut in again.

"Yes. After the power surge, though—"

"Where in the bloody hell did you get a picture of me?!"

The thief heaved a long, lingering sigh. "I might have kind of…maybe sort of…taken one or three."

"You're all so very dead," Miranda muttered. "Alright. Go on. After the power surge?"

"It shut off all our computers momentarily, right? Well…it logged Mordin off of the profile. So…" She trailed off and attempted to look at Shepard again. "You can probably let me go now."

"Oh. Right." Shepard pulled away and sat up, rubbing at her right hip. "Wait…what were you in charge of?"

"Other than getting my picture?" Miranda tilted her head to the side. She'd have to remember to ask Shepard about her leg and, more than likely, force her to see Chakwas.

Kasumi rubbed at her nose. "Nothing."

"That's a lie," the operative said easily.

"I will tackle you again," Shepard deadpanned. "No regrets."

"Alright, alright!" She held up her hands. "No need to get violent. Again. We couldn't have Mordin do all the talking—the prospective…bachelors…" her eyes wandered over to Shepard and she giggled. "Would have run away screaming. Not that they exactly had a chance."

"That's right!" Shepard gave an enthusiastic pump of her arm. "Not with me and my dance moves! Miranda had no choice but to be charmed!"

Kasumi rolled her head in Miranda's direction. "Well, Lawson? Were you charmed?"

Miranda sighed, shaking her head slowly. "I guess I had no choice in the matter."

"Yeah. Swept you right off your feet." Shepard put her hands on the floor and leaned back. "Hold on…you guys set up a _dating_ account for her?!"

Kasumi slapped herself on the forehead. "Do you ever keep up with current events, Shep?"

Miranda frowned. "Were you even paying attention the past five minutes?"

Shepard grinned crookedly. "I was actually trying to think of the last time anyone used 'i' in front of something. I remember back on Mindoir, there was some coffee place that had a drink like…iJava-Java. My dad got it once. Said it tasted like horse piss."

Miranda wrinkled her nose. "It _sounds_ like horse piss. Whose idea was that?"

Shepard's grin widened into a smile, nearly squinting her eyes shut. "The brilliant, charming daughter, of course."

"Sooo…we're done here?" Kasumi leapt up and retreated a few steps toward the couch again, safe from Shepard's reach.

"Yes." Miranda stood and extended her hand down to help the commander up. "Though I can assure you, it's far from over."

Kasumi winced. "Thought you might have said that."

Shepard laughed and dusted at her pants once she was standing. "Pretty big oops, Goto."

"It was all Solus! He was even creepy and had them submit medical records…he kind of set up an interview on Omega with one guy but uh…I'm not sure he quite got the hint it was an interview." Kasumi tapped at her chin. "I told him to wait for two minutes while I used the lady's room, but he just had to go and reply before I got back. He was too excited."

Miranda shook her head again on her way to the door. "I'll be having a chat with him tomorrow as well."

"Garrus was the ding-dong who lost the password." Kasumi crossed her arms. "I was an innocent bystander in all of this."

Both Miranda and Shepard turned at the doorway with that.

Kasumi grinned. "Ooooh, okay. Anything but innocent and anything but bystander. As soon as he remembers the password, you can log in and shut it down." She shrugged. "Goodnight, you twoooo," she added in a sing-song as they made their way out.

Miranda let Shepard lace their fingers together as they made their way back toward the XO office and bedroom. "Of course I get the chance to work with some of the most brilliant and lethal minds in the galaxy…and they set up a dating account for me behind my back."

Shepard giggled.

"You find this amusing." She cast a side-long glance at Shepard's grinning profile.

"Nooo…" Shepard shook her head, choking back another laugh. "Never."

"You're such a terrible liar."

"I know." Shepard squeezed her hand. "So these iPartner guys…I'm not gonna' have to off any of them, right?"

Miranda smiled and turned to look at her. "How could they possibly compare to your atrocious dance moves and completely inappropriate sense of humor that consists of giving away our position to hostiles on a battlefield?"

"You forgot my amazing library of vids."

"Oh, naturally. That goes without saying."

"Fantastic fashion sense…"

Miranda giggled and brought her free hand up to flick her shirt sleeve. "Of course. The world wouldn't be able to keep turning without practical fabric owners such as yourself."

Shepard nodded stiffly. "Good."

Miranda laughed and stopped just past the elevator, pulling at Shepard's hand so they faced each other. "You're actually worried about something like that?"

The woman shrugged and reached up to rub at the back of her neck. "No…"

Miranda rolled her eyes and took Shepard's face in both her hands. "The past sixty seconds haven't increased your capacity for falsifying facts," she murmured, stroking her cheeks lightly with the pads of her thumbs.

"Damn. I was hoping they did."

"I know." She leaned forward and kissed her.

"So I…" Shepard bit at her lip after Miranda pulled back.

Miranda giggled and dropped her hands to Shepard's shoulders. "No, you won't have to be doing any extra killing."

"Ugh. Shit!" They both turned to see Jack hitting the call button for the elevator. She crossed her arms. "For fuck's sake."

"Sorry," Miranda called before Shepard had a chance to interject. She wrapped her arms around Shepard's neck and pressed their foreheads together. "She's mine, Jack. And I'm not very good with sharing."

"Too damn weird for me, anyway." The light above the elevator blinked on. "Oh, good. I can leave you two to fuck in pea—"

Jack was nearly toppled over by Kelly as she exited.

"Oh my goodness!" Kelly exclaimed, reaching out and grabbing her with one arm. A rather impressive feat, considering she had to switch a heavy book and several notebooks to her free arm.

"Hm," Shepard grunted, wrapping an arm around Miranda's waist as they turned to see the spectacle. "It's not just me."

"Chambers? The fuck did you come from?"

"I…it, well, I was downstairs."

Shepard turned, words tickling Miranda's ear. "Kelly is secretly a linebacker. She has to be. Almost knocked me over once, too."

Miranda elbowed Shepard lightly. She was busy assessing if intervention would be necessary.

"So you just fuckin' barrel out of the elevator like other people don't use it?" Jack planted her hands on her hips.

"You left this with me after our session yesterday." Kelly politely dug up a tattered notebook from her stack, which Jack snatched, attempting to hide from Miranda and Shepard's view. Kelly smiled. "Goodnight, Jack."

"Yeah. Fuck you. Fuck you guys, too." Jack waved her middle finger to all three of them before stepping into the elevator.

"Wow." Kelly's eyebrows arched as she looked at Miranda. "She really is moving forward. She actually said goodnight to you!"

"Awww, look." Shepard grinned crookedly. "She's starting to like you."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Hardly."

"You know she liiiiiikes you. She wants to—oof!"

Miranda smiled. Her elbow had had the desired effect. "If you value your ribs, you won't push your luck." She studied the crooked smile lighting Shepard's features for a moment. "Just so we're clear, that idiotic grin qualifies."

"Right. No fun. No fun zone, ma'am." Shepard fought to control her grin and failed.

"Oh, Commander!" Kelly shifted the books in her arms. "Samara would like to speak with you when you have a chance."

Miranda felt Shepard's shoulder droop against her.

"Thanks, Chambers. I will. You should get some rest."

Kelly nodded and started for the crew quarters. "Right. Goodnight, Shepard. Goodnight, Miss Lawson."

The two chorused their goodnights and started for Miranda's quarters again, the operative's lightly clacking heels contrasting the scrape of the commander's boots.

"Guess this is your stop." Shepard rubbed at her right hip again, a near-imperceptible wince crossing her features, as they stopped at the entrance to her office.

"Is it bothering you?" Miranda asked, glancing down. The door swished open in front of them.

The commander nodded, fingers gripping the fabric against her leg tightly. "Yeah. Guess I'll go get something from Chakwas, and then update the list of shit to do before we save the galaxy." Her free hand lifted and she rubbed at the glowing scar just below her eye. "Mmf. Ouch."

"For the love of all things decent. Would you quit poking?" Miranda grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from her face. "Really. We're going to put bubble wrap over your hands and…" she trailed off as an elated smile spread across Shepard's face.

"We have bubble wrap?"

_Oh shit. What did I just start? _"I do believe it's past your bedtime."

"On the ship?"

"You need to go see Chakwas."

"It's all fun and games until someone breaks out the bubble wrap. Sheet gets serious, then. Heh…"

"Oh my God, Shepard. Again with the sheet thing."

Shepard laughed and held up her hand. "Okay. I'll let you in on it…what did the blanket say when it fell off the bed?"

"If I play along, will you go see Chakwas and then get to sleep?"

Shepard nodded. "Promise. Go on. Say what."

Miranda rolled her eyes and leaned her weight on one leg. "Alright. What did the blanket say…when it fell off the bed?"

"Oh…_sheet_!" Shepard burst into an uncontrolled giggle.

Miranda raised an eyebrow and found herself smiling. Not so much at the terrible joke as much as how Shepard quite obviously and genuinely thought it was the most hilarious thing she'd ever heard.

"See? Get it? 'Cuz a blanket and a—"

"Oh, no, I got it." Miranda scratched absently at her collarbone. "It was…erm…something, alright."

"You loved it, didn't you?"

Miranda smiled again and cupped her hand against Shepard's cheek. "Consider me charmed, Commander."

"Okay. Well, off to Chakwas and then bedtime for me." She wrinkled her nose. "_Someone_ is being bossy."

"How impossibly responsible of them." Miranda shook her head.

"I know. Some people's children, I tell you."

"Indeed."

Shepard leaned forward and kissed her. "I'll see you in the morning," she murmured against her lips, smiling.

"Goodnight." Miranda hugged her, then watched for a moment as she started her stiff cadence toward the med bay. _Oh sheet. Really?_

Before she could stop herself, a small giggle escaped her throat.

The more she thought about it…it sort of got a little funnier…

Damn Shepard.

By the end of this, Miranda would be telling knock-knock jokes or something equally as absurd.

She didn't mind, though…not nearly as much as she thought she would.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the delay in updating this time. It's been...a crazy couple of weeks. Thank you for sticking with me! More fighting action to come soon. :)**


	19. Chapter 19

Shepard held up a hand to block the sunlight as she watched the shuttle lift up and away. Humidity wrapped sticky fingers around her as a thick, heated breeze brushed across her face. She heaved a sigh and pulled out her shotgun. Why couldn't everyone's 'I-have-to-do-this-before-we-might-all-die' missions be as simple as Thane's was two days before? _Noooo. We have to come to Zorya for an old job that Scarface has to finish._ She was exceedingly glad that she could no longer be referred to as Scarface. Chakwas had finally come up with some sort of…something or other, for her scars, and she'd had the treatment the day before. Rather disheartening she had nothing to poke at anymore, but relieving at the same time.

"Alright," Miranda said through a comm link in her, Samara's, and Zaeed's ears. "Just radio Joker when you're ready for pickup."

"Copy that," Shepard said, eyes flicking to the asari. She was about one hundred and twelve percent sure Zaeed wanted her to come along so he could oogle her the entire time they were there.

And she was pretty sure the Justicar knew it too. Samara gave the old mercenary an icy glare. "Where are we headed, Mister Massani?" she asked, clicking off the safety on her pistol.

"This way." He waved them forward and started ahead.

Shepard wiped across her brow. Sweat was already beginning to bead at her temples, and she could feel it on her back.

"Damn. It's hotter than the devil's crotch out 'ere," Zaeed grumbled from ahead.

Shepard grinned. "Yeah, Massani, but it's a dry heat!"

He glanced over his shoulder. "You gotta' be shittin' me."

"Yeah," Shepard agreed. "I am." It felt like she was swallowing mouthfuls of damp, microwaved air.

"The sooner we get this over with, the better." Zaeed continued doggedly onward, assault rifle bumping against his chest.

Samara glanced to Shepard. "I agree with him on this particular matter."

"Aye." Zaeed turned to face them, walking backward. "You can agree wif' me on anything you like, sweet'eart."

Shepard raised an eyebrow, wondering if she should warn him about an upcoming tree root. _Mmm…nah._

His heel caught it and he tumbled backward, sprawling onto the ground, sending up a cloud of dust around him. His gun bounced off to the side and ended with a gravely slide.

"Ooohhh!" Shepard started laughing and slapped her thigh. "So worth it! Hahaha!"

"Fuck off, Shepard," Massani growled, scurrying upright and scooping his gun back into his arms. "Goddamn tree roots on this goddamn planet…"

"Hey—haha—can we get an instant replay?"

"I said fuck off. Goddamn trees can fuck off, too."

"_Man,_ I wish we had some helmet cams for that!" Shepard was nearly wheezing from her bout of laughter. The climate was terrible. She'd had an easier time breathing on Noveria over two years ago.

Samara's mouth flicked upward in a grin. "Very graceful, Mister Massani."

"Let's get goin'," he muttered.

/ / /

"What the hell!" Shepard called, ducking as a piece of flaming metal shot off a pipe, only barely missing her head.

"Had to improvise!" Zaeed answered. "Come on."

"No, okay, let's get something straight, asshole." Shepard strode over and grabbed him by the collar of his armor, yanking him closer. "Improvising is acceptable when it _doesn't_ almost get us killed!"

"We gotta' go, Shepard!" He shoved her away, starting for the door. He didn't flinch as a burning rod dropped from the ruined platform above and clattered at his feet. "Or he'll get away."

Shepard rolled her eyes as she and Samara continued after him. "Yeah, let's finish an old job, he says. Company wants it dealt with, he says," she muttered. "What could possibly go wrong?"

Samara glanced to her as Zaeed overrode the lock on the rusted door in front of them. "Perhaps you should stop saying that."

Shepard scratched at the back of her head, sweat soaking her under-armor clothes. A drop slid down her nose and she wiped it away roughly. The fire wasn't helping with the whole…heat thing. She nodded as the door ahead screeched and squealed open. "Maybe I should. I think every time I say that, it only gets wo—"

Bullets ricocheted with sharp, metallic clangs. Samara and Shepard whirled, running forward, firing around Zaeed.

Shepard pulled her shotgun to her chest and shot forward in a streak of white-blue, sending one of the mercs screaming over a railing. She grinned over the edge. "Have a nice trip, you bastard."

"Don't just stand around!" Zaeed barked as soon as the handful of Blue Suns mercenaries had been killed.

Shepard sighed and shook her head as she pulled up beside the Justicar again. "Damn. And I thought my girlfriend was bossy."

Samara offered her a smile. "At least she is the correct kind of bossy, Shepard."

"Oh! Burn, Massani!" Shepard called. She giggled before remembering the fires. "Oh, shit. Burn. I didn't mean it like that…"

An explosion rocked the rickety, metal platform they were sprinting along. Samara reached out and grabbed Shepard's arm to steady her.

"Alright," Zaeed panted as they pulled up to another door. "Vido should be headed this—"

"Help!"

Shepard's head jerked up to a higher platform. A man was frantically waving.

"Please! Please, you gotta' help us!"

Zaeed reached forward and pushed the commander's shoulder roughly. "We don't 'ave time, Shepard! We gotta' go—"

Shepard whirled and shoved him back. "Would you shut your damn face, Massani?!"

"Please!" The man continued desperately. "Please, we're stuck up here!"

Shepard's eyes darted to the black smoke billowing above them.

_"__Dad?"_

_ "__Stick close, sweetheart. Everything will be okay. Don't let go of my shirt, alright? Martin?! Martin!"_

"Shepard!" Zaeed demanded gruffly.

Shepard pushed him forward. "Samara, go with Massani. I'll catch up."

"Shepard, I am with you," Samara said calmly, making as if to follow her as she jumped over a rail to a lower level.

Shepard held up her hand, face a steely mask. She could feel the air around them heating, spurring on her already heavy sweating. "Go with Massani," she said, stopping the asari from following suit.

"Shepard—"

"That's an order!" she barked. Another explosion quaked the platform as Shepard turned. "Go, dammit!"

_"__D-Dad…"_

_Travis pulled her close, shielding her from a hot blast of air as the mechanic shop a block ahead exploded with a painfully loud boom. Concrete and metal rained down around them, mixing with ash and more rubble. The sky was murky._

_ "__Dad…" she tried again, hoarsely. She could barely hear herself over the ringing in her ears. Her eyes were glued open, staring at the dead face of Laura McKinnon. The blonde hair splayed outward from her head; a golden halo inside a larger, bloody circle. Her body sprawled in unnatural angles on the ground._

_ "__Oh, God. Oh God," Travis wrapped his arm around her head, pulling it to his chest. "Don't look…here. Here." He frantically reached behind him and brought out the red-checkered dish cloth. "Put it on."_

_She nodded numbly and reached for it. Her hands failed her and she dropped it to blood-spattered ground. "Sorry—sorry, I—"_

_ "__It's okay, baby girl," Travis cut her off quickly, grabbing her hands. "Just look at me, okay?" He swallowed hard. "Remember that I love you. Always."_

_ "__Dad, what are—"_

_ "__Promise me you'll remember."_

_She was shaking so hard she didn't know if the nodding was of her own accord or not. "I p-promise. Dad? Are…"_

_ "__It'll be alright," he said, starting forward again. Gunfire rattled through the air. Closer than it had been at home. "We just have to find Pop. Here." He put her hand to his shirt again. "Don't let go." Strange, whooshing noises. Not-so-distant screaming. Deep, gravely voices. Smoke._

_The library was an inferno. Embers scurried across on the now-burning wind as they continued frantically through what had once been downtown._

_Her eyes watered._

"Hey! Hey, I'm here!" Shepard shouted, banging on a thick pane of glass. The workers behind it motioned to the side. One man tried to communicate, but his words were muffled. She made out something about fuel. "What?" she shouted, pressing her ear to the glass. It burned.

"…the fuel lines! Have to…the fuel lines!...redirect them!"

She pulled away and nodded, head whipping back and forth to try and spot a console to do so. She felt like she was cooking.

The man behind the glass pointed, jabbing against the window. "Th…way!...at way!"

Sweat dripped from her brow line and stung her eyes as she ran forward.

_"__Martin!"_

_ "__Travis! Where—"_

_ "__Pop!" She darted forward and grabbed him in a tight hug. Heat from the library fire and still-smoldering remains of the once-restaurant they were standing in seemed to sink into her skin._

_ "__There you are," he breathed out. He pulled an arm from the hug, reached forward, and grabbed Travis' hand. "Come on. The safe bunker isn't too far away now."_

_ "__Shit! Martin? What…what…"_

_She pulled away to see what could possibly make her dad sound terrified. And she wished she hadn't._

_ "__Batarians. They have these…these flame…just come on!" Martin shook his head and grabbed her hand._

_She couldn't move._

Shepard nearly fell on top of the console as she stopped in front of it. She ran a hand through her sweat-damp hair, trying to pull oxygen into her lungs, trying to focus on the commands, trying to push that day out of her conscious. "Shit, shit, shit," she hissed, running through the codes. "Fuel lines…fuel…there." The panel in front of her flashed green to signal it had been redirected successfully. A muffled boom echoed through the walls, tossing her against the console. She turned and watched somewhere around a dozen workers dart from the death trap of a room behind her. "Are there more?" she yelled.

A woman stopped and turned. "Another server room down the hall and up a level!"

Shepard hauled herself from the console and glanced down the long hallway to her right.

"We have to get out of here!" the woman ran forward and grabbed at Shepard's arm, but yanked her hands away almost instantly. The metal of her suit was sizzling. "We have to go!"

"Go!" Shepard waved her away. "I can get them out!"

The woman only hesitated a moment before sprinting away.

_"__Here, hold this."_

_ "__A gun? Martin, where the hell did you—"_

_Her pop scooped her up. She could smell the charred skin of the shoulder her head wasn't resting on. She wanted to throw up._

_ "__We can talk about it later!"_

_Travis laughed. Desperate, but a laugh nonetheless. "You know you can't shoot worth a damn!"_

_ "__Tell that to the fucker I mowed down to get here." Martin offered him a smirk. She bumped against him as they started running forward again._

_She pressed her eyes closed. She could feel the buzz of his biotics, helping him carry her. She tried to shut out the screams. The harsh staccatos of gunfire that were suddenly everywhere._

_Until the roar that ripped from Martin's throat made her snap her eyes open. Something warm splattered across them both._

"Where is it?" Shepard pounded against the glass of the next room, sucking in ragged, hot, sharp breaths. The four workers bunched against the window as flames licked up the opposite wall. They pointed in despairing unison to the left. She stumbled over and wiped sweat from her eyes. "Damn Massani…I'm going to cut the bastard's balls off myself," she muttered, fingers flying over the interface.

The display flashed red at her attempted fuel redirection.

"What?" she panted, slamming at the controls. "No! Critical junction damaged?!" She turned, horrified, to the glass and ran up to it, pulling out her shotgun. "Get back!" She waved at them to clear a path.

Her shots dug uselessly into the clear barrier over and over.

The workers' faces slowly accepted the inevitable. One man turned and walked into the flames.

"No!" Shepard screamed, changing the thermal clip.

_"__Travis!"_

_She watched her dad crumple forward into a heap on the ground. She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Smoke choked the air, burned her nostrils and throat._

_ "__Travis!" Martin dropped to his knees at his husband's side._

_She pulled out of his arms and scurried to the opposite side of his body. Finally, words found their way out. "D-Dad?" she whispered. "Dad?"_

_The roaring, whooshing sound. Close. Too close._

_Martin screamed._

_She didn't know what she was doing. Her hands closed around the pistol that had dropped from Travis' lifeless grip, pointed at the four-eyed bastard behind a wall of flames, and pulled the trigger._

_He tumbled backward as Martin fell to the ground, writhing._

_ "__Pop! Pop, no! No, no, no!" She edged forward, hand hovering over melted and blistering skin._

_Words gargled from a disfigured mouth that turned upward. "Go," he wheezed. "Safe…bunker."_

_ "__Pop…Poppa," she managed brokenly. "Poppa, I love you."_

_ "__I…love you…"_

The last person to ever say her first name.

She pounded her fist uselessly against the glass as tears burrowed through the sweat on her face. "I'm sorry!" she shouted. "I'm sorry! I…I…" She dropped her head and glanced to the right as the screams bled through the window. The air she was attempting to gasp in was scorching her throat, her nose, her eyes.

She stumbled away, continuing through the refinery.

She had to get back to Massani and Samara.

* * *

"You _do_ realize you could have compromised our position with your little…experiment?" Miranda planted her hands on Mordin's desk and leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. The ventilation duct above them blew cool, recycled oxygen against their heads. She swiped at a strand of dark hair that kept twitching in front of her vision with the airflow.

"No, no!" Mordin grinned. "Best part! Made sure all lines were secure. No trace. Not even iPartner would know."

She frowned slightly, then held up a finger. If they could communicate over unsecure channels, but in an untraceable way…maybe… "Could…you possibly do it again?"

"Shepard not satisfactory?" He looked mortified. "No! Will not—"

"Oh, for the love of—no!" Miranda rolled her eyes. "A secure account. _Not_ a dating account. One that could connect to public extranet channels." She tapped the tabletop. "Someone I…" she stopped and grinned. "My…sister."

"Aaaaah!" Mordin nodded. "Acceptable. Yes, could work on setting up account today!"

The intercom overhead cackled to life.

"Lawson!" Joker called. "Lawson, I think we've got a situation!"

She sighed heavily. Shepard couldn't go anywhere without there being some sort of situation or another. "What is it, Joker? Did she get shot in the ass again? Because I'd rather not—"

"EDI picked up a heat spike near the drop-off zone. I had her run a scan—the refinery where they were—it's on-fucking-fire! It's been burning a good ten or fifteen minutes now!"

"Shit," she muttered, already running toward the CIC. "I'm coming. Raise Shepard on the comm link." Her heels clacked loudly against the floor as she continued through the CIC and onto the bridge.

Joker shook his head as she darted in. "Can't get Shepard. Samara and Zaeed are on, though."

"Justicar?" Miranda crossed her arms. She wished they had helmet cams on. At least they could see what the damage was thus far.

"Operative Lawson." Bullets popped and zinged in the background.

"What's your status?"

"Zaeed and I are near a landing dock."

"Where the hell is Shepard?" Miranda demanded, unfolding her arms to grip the back of Joker's seat.

"She went to help the workers trapped inside. I apologize, but she gave me a direct order to continue on with Massani."

"She had to go an' play the big Goddamn hero. Proba—"

"Silence," Samara cut him off coldly. "It is this fool's fault the facility is exploding around us."

"Exploding?!" Joker spluttered. "Shepard doesn't do well with exploding!"

Miranda ran a hand across her brow. No, she wouldn't. Mindoir, Torfan, Virmire, the first Normandy…all were nightmares from the flames and explosions of Shepard's own hell. "Dammit, Massani!" And Shepard, for that matter. Since when was running off to be the lone hero something she did?

"I had to improvise."

"Unacceptable," she snapped. "Joker, call Jacob and Garrus to the shuttle bay. We're sending in backup."

"Just two?" Joker hit the intercom button and glanced over his shoulder.

"I'm the third," she answered smoothly, turning and making her way out of the bridge. "And I'm personally going to nail Massani's head to the floor when we arrive."

/ / /

"The tracker in Shepard's suit isn't working," Miranda explained on the bumpy shuttle ride into Zorya's atmosphere. "We're being dropped where Samara and Massani are." She hadn't had time to switch into her Cerberus armor. Shepard could berate her for lack of non-barrier armor protection later. "Scans show the section of the refinery Shepard branched into is to the left of the large room where the other two are right now." All three of them had on non-helmet breather masks, already prepared for the possibility of low oxygen inside the facility.

Garrus shifted against his seatbelt as the floor tilted and they felt themselves dropping. "Lawson, you and I should go after Shepard."

Miranda nodded. "Fair enough. Jacob, I'm going to send you in to help Samara and the mercenary piece of shit." The phrase jumped out of her before she had time to register that's what she was going to say. The idea that he had needlessly put them in danger…

Put Shepard in danger…

"Ma'am!" The pilot called from the front. "Operative Lawson! Scanners are picking up a heilo prepping for launch!"

"Send the coordinates to EDI and have her jam the signal."

"Copy that!"

Garrus issued a nervous chuckle. "Hot damn, Lawson." He nudged Jacob. "Remind me never to get on her bad side."

"Yeah…" Jacob glanced over at him. "Don't do that."

Miranda glared out the external camera windows. The refinery was a mess of explosions and flames. "God_dammit_," she hissed. Her eyes flicked to Garrus. "I hear turians don't like the cold. How do you feel about heat?"

He made a strange growling, grunting, noncommittal sound in his throat. "Mmm…more or less the same."

"Wonderful."

"Miranda," Jacob said, gripping the straps across his chest. "It's gonna' be okay."

Garrus' mandibles flicked and he met Miranda's eyes.

Neither of them said anything.

/ / /

Miranda, Garrus, and Jacob hurdled out of the shuttle door as soon as it opened, guns already firing. The mercs who had been trying to escape on the heilo had made the grave mistake of opening fire on the shuttle, giving away the question of hostile or friendlies.

Before the last body hit the ground, Miranda and Garrus were already running toward the second entrance.

An explosion near the front of the facility sent up an oily plume of smoke.

Miranda tried to raise Shepard's comm again, to no avail.

"Anything?" Garrus asked as they rushed into the building.

"No." The heat slammed into them, and Miranda was suddenly glad she hadn't had time for her armor. Sweat started instantly at the back of her neck. "Forward and then the third left. If we go that way, we should run straight into Shepard," she said, pulling up her gun and continuing on.

"Shepard!" Garrus shouted, taking long, easy strides next to the jogging Normandy XO, his assault rifle up and ready for any merc that had the misfortune of stepping into their path. "Shepard!"

The floor shuddered beneath them.

Miranda bit at her lower lip, picking up her pace. The building didn't have much time before it came crumbling down on top of everyone.

That would be awkward.

The commander and XO both dying.

And since when would that qualify as awkward to her?

Since Shepard, of course.

They had to find her.

"Shep…to Norm…anyone he…me?" Her weary, panting voice suddenly sounded in their ears through hissing static. "Ne…assista…Sh…ard to Normand…"

"Shepard!" Miranda called. They had to be close if their comms were suddenly picking up her signal.

"Mir…Miranda?"

She pulled up her omni-tool. There. She was only about a hundred feet away. "We're coming," she gushed, sprinting forward, Garrus at her heels.

They rounded a corner to find her sprawled on the ground, her face a soot and sweat-streaked mess. Her chest heaved up and down as she pulled desperately at her armor collar. "Hell…hello, beautiful," she wheezed.

"Hey!" Garrus said cheerily.

Miranda rolled her eyes as she pulled off her breather mask. Smoke instantly stuffed itself down her throat. It was amazing Shepard hadn't passed out yet. She knelt down and fitted it over her face. "Napping on the job, again?" she asked, unstrapping the small oxygen converter from her side and handing it to the commander.

Shepard gulped down the air, already staggering to her feet. "We have to get to the safe bunker," she said, taking clumsy, rushed steps forward.

"Safe bunker?" Garrus asked as she quickly regained her ability to run. He grabbed Miranda's arm, making sure she wouldn't fall behind from choking on the smoke like Shepard had, and pulled her along.

"Shit," Miranda said, then coughed. "Safe bunker…that's where the Alliance found her on Mindoir after the attack."

"Shepard, do you know where we are?" Garrus called ahead.

"Come on, we're almost there!"

"Spirits," he muttered, pulling Miranda a little harder. "She doesn't, does she?"

Miranda focused primarily on breathing instead of responding. Lack of oxygen could do a lot of things to someone. Temporary and…permanent… _"What did the blanket say when it fell off the bed?"_ She blinked the stinging from her eyes, unsure if it was solely from the smoke or not. _Shepard…please…please be you._

They broke onto the landing pad shortly after Shepard.

Miranda had never been so thankful for air before.

Jacob, Massani, and Samara were already at the shuttle.

"Shepard, come on!" Jacob called.

The woman in question seemed to be confused, turning and watching the refinery burn. "What the hell happened here?" she demanded, pointing. Miranda pushed Garrus toward the shuttle.

"I'll get her," she said.

"Guys? Fire? What the hell!"

"We'll tell you later," Miranda said, grabbing her arm. The metal was hot, but not burning.

Shepard turned her gaze to the operative, her eyes wide and lost and jarringly bloodshot.

"Come on," she whispered, moving her hand to take Shepard's.

"Everything…" Shepard frowned. "Everything is…it's…" She pulled away, bringing her hands up to her face. "I don't know what…"

"Shepard." Miranda grabbed her wrists moving her hands away from her head. "Shepard, it's me. Focus on me, right now. Try to stay calm."

"Aye!" Zaeed shouted. "Not to be a nudge or nothin', but we got—"

"Can it!" Garrus barked.

Samara glared at him. "I believe you have done enough for one day, Massani."

"I didn't even get to shoot the bastard myself."

Shepard's eyes roved toward the shuttle, but Miranda brought a hand up to rest against the commander's cheek, pulling her gaze back to meet her steely blue eyes.

"Keep still," she whispered, stroking her cheek with her thumb. "Keep still and try to stay calm."

Shepard's eyes slowly swam into recognition of time and place. "Miranda," she breathed out.

The XO nodded, tugging her gently toward the shuttle. "We're leaving, now."

/ / /

Miranda jumped as her door slid open later that night. She looked up hopefully, only to find Doctor Chakwas.

Wait. What was Chakwas doing in her office? She normally went to the med bay to talk to the doctor.

"How is she?" Miranda asked. She'd managed to kick the scratchy edge her voice had taken on a few hours before.

Chakwas sank heavily into the chair in front of the desk, shaking her head as she rubbed across her forehead. "She's going to need a day or two to…" she stared out the window for a long moment, seeming to search for the right term. "Well. Physically, she's alright, now."

Miranda closed out of her current report and leaned her elbows on her desk, giving the kind doctor her full attention.

Chakwas crossed one leg over the other and tapped at her thigh. "The fire, though. She told me…she kept remembering the day of the attack on Mindoir." She sighed heavily. "I'm sure you've read the reports she had to file."

Miranda nodded. She'd listened to the safe bunker distress beacon Shepard had sent out, as well. _"Please…answer. Is…is there anyone out there? Anyone?"_

Chakwas uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees and resting her chin on balled fists. Fidgeting. "I do believe she needs you," she finally said, looking over to meet her eyes. "Please. Do me a favor and…make sure she's alright?"

Miranda cleared her throat, somewhat taken aback by the concern so openly on Chakwas' face. "Okay…yes. I will."

"Thank you, dear." The doctor stood and turned for the door. As it opened, she paused and turned back. "Any time you wish to share a glass of brandy…my door is open."

Miranda smiled at her. "I…believe I would enjoy that. Thank you."

Chakwas nodded, her eyes shining with her own smile. "As would I."

/ / /

"Shepard?" Miranda called quietly as she entered her cabin. The lights were set to dim, but she could see the portable projection screen set up on the coffee table. It was cooler than normal in the room. She crossed her arms—it was a little too chilly for her tank top. At least her legs would be comfortable.

She took the few steps down to the bedroom to see Shepard curled on the couch under her blanket.

She looked up, long shadows splashing across her face.

It was odd not to see the glowing red lines.

Miranda smiled, and, taking in the blanket, couldn't help but giggle as she pulled up to the couch. That stupid joke.

Shepard raised an eyebrow; a wordless question.

"Oh sheet?" Miranda smiled.

She was rewarded with a small, tired grin. "Yeah," she croaked. Her throat was still raw.

"May I join you?" She motioned with one hand toward the screen. It looked as if Shepard hadn't picked anything yet. Different vid titles scrolled across.

Shepard started sitting up to allow her space, but Miranda stopped her halfway to her sitting position.

"Here," she said quietly, sitting down and moving the pillow to her lap. She patted it lightly.

Shepard sank back down, settling her head onto the pillow. The blanket slid back a little, revealing the commander's torso to be in only a practical, almost-combat-underclothes-appropriate sports bra.

"I see you haven't picked a vid yet," Miranda said, tracing a thin, light scar on the side of her neck. Her skin was chilled.

"My pop…always…picked the best ones…" Her voice caught and she buried her face into the pillow.

Miranda's fingers lightly brushed the strands of hair that had fallen across Shepard's cheek. "It's alright," she whispered.

Shepard sniffed and nodded.

They stayed that way for a long while, Miranda combing through her hair with her fingertips, staring at the different titles as they pulled across the projection.

Finally, the commander's rasping voice broke the near-silence. "You can pick."

Miranda looked down as Shepard shifted almost onto her back so she was looking up at her. "You're sure?"

"As long as you keep doing this," Shepard replied, pulling her hand back to her head. Her eyelids settled contentedly lower over her still-bloodshot eyes, and she swallowed with an obvious effort. "I think I could live with whatever it is."

Miranda smiled, teasing the hair at Shepard's temples backward with one hand, letting the other rest at the top of her head. "I can't say that my wealth of vid knowledge is as extensive or…eclectic as yours."

"Hey." Her voice grated as she shrugged with a sideways grin. "Not everyone can be perfect, Operative Lawson."

Miranda pressed her index finger against the woman's lips. "You sound terrible."

"You're too sweet," she mumbled around the obstruction.

"You need to rest your vocal cords."

Shepard nodded, and the operative raised her hand, letting the sensor on the player pick up the movement. She swiped through several panels, her other hand gently massaging Shepard's scalp through her recently-dried hair. The smell of her generic shampoo and the clean blanket wrapped around them as Miranda hesitated at a title. _Apollo 13_. Yes, she knew that story. From early human space age lessons.

"What's this one?" Shepard whispered.

"When the biggest dream, as a human, was the moon…and even when everything went horrendously wrong…they didn't give up."

"Damn right. We don't give up," Shepard muttered.

Miranda selected the title and let her hand drop to the woman's bare shoulder. "No," she said, letting herself smile. "No, we don't."

"And if you're me, you don't die." she continued quietly, trying not to aggravate her throat. She sat up, her head almost level with Miranda's. "Or…well. Don't stay that way."

Miranda leaned closer, one of Shepard's arms circling around her shoulder as she sat up. The blanket slipped further, revealing the commander's toned, flat stomach. More chiseled than during Lazarus. Which would make sense, considering the amount of physical activity she faced daily. Miranda ran a finger lazily over her abs, trailed it back around her ribs and up to her shoulder blade.

The feeling of skin against skin…even if it was only those acceptable, appropriate places…it felt so different than everything she had before. She felt her ears heating up.

Shepard's mouth turned upward the slightest amount and her eyes flicked to looking over her shoulder. "My water is over there."

Miranda laughed and whacked her side. "You ass." Still, she turned and grabbed the tall glass, condensation leaving a ring at the flat, few inches of 'counter space' that sat behind the top of the couch.

"Oh, so now I'm an ass for following the doc's orders?" Shepard raised an eyebrow as she brought the glass to her lips.

"You know exactly why."

Shepard grunted and smiled behind the rim before finishing it off with a swift tilt backward of her head. The ice clinked as she set it down on the table. She stared at it through her red-rimmed eyes for a long moment and Miranda brought up a hand to rest on the arm still settled around her shoulders. "Thanks for coming up here," the commander finally said, the smallest amount of normalcy returning to her voice.

"Of course," she replied, taking Shepard's chin between her thumb and crook of her finger and bringing them face to face again. Her eyes were pained; almost a mirror image of what she'd seen when they were back on Horizon.

But…not as empty.

All she wanted to do was reciprocate the comfort she'd received standing over a sink of dishes.

She'd felt safe.

Full.

She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to the edge of Shepard's, where a small trail of water still glistened. The commander's lips were even colder from her drink, and they parted willingly for Miranda's, the arm tightening around her, pulling her closer.

She felt Shepard's hand curl into her hair and she let her hand return to the commander's bare side; slide to her back again, feeling the muscles ripple under her fingers.

Miranda broke away to kiss precisely where she knew the red fissures would have been. Her forehead, her cheek, her jaw. She let her lips linger at her jaw line, Shepard's breath shaking against her ear, body trembling under her hands. She inclined her head, letting her warm breath brush against the woman's ear. "You don't give up, Shepard. And I won't let you, this time." She pulled her into a hug, Shepard's face pressing into her neck. She ran a hand through her hair again, the other splayed between her shoulder blades, holding her close. She didn't let her lie back down until her shaking stopped.

Miranda settled back comfortably, absently letting her hand wander through Shepard's hair yet again after she pulled the blanket back over her.

"So…what's going on?" Shepard asked, glancing at the screen.

Miranda laughed and sighed deeply. "You're getting the backstory of the men who will be manning Apollo 13."

"Is their spaceship pink?"

She laughed again and brought Shepard's hand up; kissed the back of it. "You're incorrigible."


End file.
